IBSON 


^ 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


BY  JOHN  COLEMAN  ADAMS 


NATURE  STUDIES  IN  BERKSHIRE 

Photogravure  Edition,  with  16  illustrations 

in  photogravure.     8°        .        .        $4.50 

Popular  Edition,  illustrated .        .          2.50 

WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON 

ARTIST — NATURALIST — AUTHOR 

8°.    Fully  illustrated.    (By  mail  $2.15) 

net,  $2.00 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


Frontispiece 


William  Hamilton  Gibson 


Artist— Naturalist— Author 


By 


John  Coleman  Adams 

Author  of  "  Nature  Studies  in  Berkshire,"  etc. 


Illustrated 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

Gbe  "Knickerbocker  press 

1901 


N&I3J 


COPYRIGHT,  1901 

BY 
G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Ube  Itnicfterbocftet  |5rc0s,  flew  Iffotli 


Dedicated 

to 

Emma  L.  B.  Gibson 

and 

Her  Sons 


THE  MOTIVE 

THREE  men  have  done  more  than  any  others  to 
inspire  our  generation  with  the  love  of  nature. 
They  are  Henry  D.  Thoreau,  John  Burroughs,  and 
William  Hamilton  Gibson.  Thoreau,  when  the  gen- 
eration was  young,  challenged  it  to  come  out  of  doors, 
live  in  a  shanty,  and  see  as  much  of  the  world  as  he 
saw.  John  Burroughs,  in  later  years,  has  acted  as 
guide  to  a  multitude  of  minds,  eager  to  be  "  person- 
ally conducted  "  to  field  and  forest.  William  Hamil- 
ton Gibson,  besides  winning  many  feet  into  those 
"  highways  and  byways  "  whose  charms  he  taught  us 
to  feel,  was  fortunate  in  his  exceptional  power  to 
bring  nature  to  the  very  eyes  of  men  in  the  works  of 
his  pencil,  with  which  he  made  luminous — literally 
"illustrated" — his  pages.  This  alone  would  be  a 
justification  of  some  account  of  his  life  and  work. 

But  in  addition  to  this  claim  on  the  interest  of  the 
public,  those  who  knew  him  are  aware  of  others  ; — a 
personality  of  singular  charm  and  forcefulness  ;  a 
career  quite  marvelous  in  its  swift  and  sure  achieve- 
ments; a  genius  as  rare  as  it  was  versatile;  a  devotion 
to  art  and  to  study  which  fairly  wore  him  out  in  its 
exactions  on  his  energy;  an  ideal  which  instructs 


O  1  Q  I  -I  O 


vi  The  Motive 

while  it  shames  our  sordidness  and  materialism.  His 
personality  will  surely  grow  upon  the  American  peo- 
ple as  time  gives  a  true  perspective  to  his  life  and 
work.  Already  we  can  see  something  of  his  con- 
spicuousness  and  his  right  to  a  place  in  the  foremost 
group  of  our  nature-prophets.  In  that  great  trio, 
Thoreau  is  the  philosopher,  Burroughs  the  poet  and 
man  of  letters,  Gibson  the  artist-naturalist.  In  these 
days  when  so  many  are  entering  into  the  inheritance 
which  Gibson  helped  to  secure,  it  is  fitting  that  nature- 
lovers  should  hear  the  story  of  his  fruitful  life. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  FORTUNATE  BOYHOOD     .  i 

II.  CALLING  AND  ELECTION  .                *      24 

III.  A  QUICK  SUCCESS       .  .      49 

IV,  WITH  PENCIL  AND  BRUSH    .  81 
V.  THE  OPEN  EYE  .        •  :     •  •                .108 

VI.  THE  ACCIDENT  OF  AUTHORSHIP  .                .     139 

VII.  THE  WORKMAN  AND  HIS  WORK  .                .166 

VIII.  THE  PERSONAL  SIDE    .  .200 

IX.  AFTERGLOW       *  .             237 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 
WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON  ....  Frontispiece 

Age,  41 

TO  FACE  PAGE 

THE  GUNNERY 6 

Washington,  Connecticut 

WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON          .  .        .18 

Age,  13 

WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON  .     ,.        „      ,.        .      28 

Age,  17 

*THE  ROAD  TO  HIDE-AND-SEEK  TOWN         .        .      36 

First  Composition,  1873 

WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON.     ,   .        .        .        .42 

Age,  23 

*"THE  PEACOCK'S  FEATHER"   ("THE  PEERLESS 

PLUME")      .        .        .        .        .        .        .      48 

("  Highways  and  Byways") 
Copyright,  1882,  by  Harper  Brothers 

*  GOD'S  MIRACLE         .        .        ...        .      5$ 

By  permission  of  The  Curtis  Publishing  Company 

THE  SUMACS       ........      80 

*  PEN-AND-INK  SKETCH        .        .        .        ...      82 

From  a  Letter 

AT  THE  EASEL    .        .        .        .  .        .90 

Brooklyn  Studio 

*  THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  LIFE    .        .        .        .        .      98 

First  Watercolor 

*  From  a  drawing  by  William  Hamilton  Gibson 
ix 


x  List  of  Illustrations 

TO  FACE  PAGE 

*  "  CYPRIPEDIUM  ACAULE  " 108 

("My  Studio  Neighbors  ") 
Copyright,  1897,  by  Harper  Brothers 

*  UPLAND  MEADOWS 120 

From  a  Painting 

*  "THE  BOBOLINK  AT  HOME"      .        .        .        .130 

("  Strolls  by  Starlight  ") 
Copyright,  1890,  by  Harper  Brothers 

THE  WRITING  DESK 138 

Brooklyn  Studio 

*  A  WINTER  HUNT 144 

*  SPRINGTIME 1 54 

From  a  Painting 

*  LAKE  WARAMAUG 162 

From  a  Painting 

*"  WIDE-  A  WAKE  DAY-DOZERS"         .        .        .178 

("  Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine  ") 
Copyright,  1890,  by  Harper  Brothers 

*  THE  ROXBURY  ROAD 188 

*LATE  OCTOBER 222 

From  a  Painting 

*  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  WOODS         ....    234 

From  a  Painting 

THE  VILLAGE  GREEN 240 

Washington,  Connecticut 

GIBSON'S  GRAVE  ...  ...    248 

Washington  Cemetery 

THE  BRONZE  MEMORIAL       .        .        .        .        .     266 

*  From  a  drawing  by  William  Hamilton  Gibson 


William  Hamilton  Gibson 


WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON 


CHAPTER  I 

A   FORTUNATE   BOYHOOD 

rbe  well-born  is  half  of  the  battle  of  life  ;  and  to 
have  an  environment  which  helps  the  life  of  the 
child  and  the  youth  is  a  good  fraction  of  the  other  half. 
So  that  the  man  whose  parentage  and  whose  educa- 
tion are  good  is  fortunate  above  his  fellows,  and  well- 
assured  of  a  successful  issue  to  his  life.  Heredity  and 
early  environment — these  are  what  the  scientists  call 
them — are  as  the  building  and  the  rigging  of  the  ship. 
The  best  sailing-master  can  do  little  with  an  ill-built, 
ill-rigged  vessel.  There  is  much  in  the  stock  from 
which  William  Hamilton  Gibson  came,  much  in  his 
education  and  early  association,  which  explains  his  life 
and  the  way  in  which  he  lived  it.  He  was  born  in 
Sandy  Hook,  Newtown, Connecticut,  in  a  region  where 
the  lower  Berkshire  mountain-ranges  break  into  irregu- 
lar and  crowded  hills,  green,  picturesque,  and  restful. 
He  has  himself  left  a  charming  description  of  the  old 
home  and  its  immediate  surroundings,  in  the  chapter 
called  "Summer"  in  "Pastoral  Days." 

i 


2  William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"Hometown  (Sandy  Hook),  owing  to  some  early 
faction,  is  divided  into  two  sections,  forming  two  dis- 
tinct towns.  One  Newborough  (Newtown),  a  hilltop 
hamlet,  with  its  picturesque  long  street,  a  hundred 
feet  in  width,  and  shaded  with  great  weeping  elms 
that  almost  meet  overhead  ;  and  the  other,  Hometown 
proper  (Sandy  Hook),  a  picturesque  little  village  in  the 
valley,  cuddling  close  around  the  foot  of  a  precipitous 
bluff,  known  as  Mt.  Pisgah.  A  mile's  distance  sepa- 
rates the  two  centers.  The  old  homestead  is  situated 
in  the  heart  of  Hometown,  fronting  on  the  main  street. 
The  house  itself  is  a  series  of  after-thoughts,  wing 
after  wing,  gable  after  gable  having  clustered  around 
the  old  nucleus  as  the  growth  of  new  generations 
necessitated  new  accommodation.  Its  outward  aspect 
is  rather  modern,  but  the  interior  with  its  broad  open 
fireplace  and  accessories  in  the  shape  of  crane  and 
firedogs,  is  rich  with  all  the  features  of  typical  New 
England  ;  and  the  two  gables  of  the  main  roof  enclose 
the  dearest  old  garret  imaginable.  .  .  .  Looking 
through  the  dingy  window  between  the  maple- 
boughs,  my  eye  extends  over  lawns  and  shrubberies 
three  acres  in  extent, — a  little  park,  overrun  with 
paths  in  every  direction,  through  ancient  orchard  and 
embowered  dells,  while  far  beyond  are  glimpses  of 
the  wooded  knolls,  the  winding  brook,  and  meadows 
dotted  with  waving  willows,  and  farther  still,  the  un- 
dulating farm." 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  3 

In  such  a  spot  Gibson  was  born  October  the  fifth, 
1850.  His  father  was  originally  a  Boston  man,  who 
finally  removed  to  Brooklyn,  though  maintaining  the 
home  in  the  country,  at  Newtown. 

The  Gibson  ancestry  is  one  of  no  little  interest,  em- 
bracing as  it  does,  in  various  branches,  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  names  in  Eastern  Massachusetts. 
The  first  American  bearer  of  the  name  was  John  Gib- 
son of  Cambridge,  whose  coming  to  this  country  was 
at  least  as  early  as  1634,  and  who  died  in  Cambridge 
in  1694  at  the  age  of  ninety-three  years.  His  descend- 
ants remained  for  the  most  part  in  Massachusetts  for 
several  generations.  Thomas  Gibson  of  Townsend, 
Massachusetts,  the  grandfather  of  William  Hamilton, 
by  marriage  with  Frances  Maria  Hastings  brought  into 
the  family  line  the  famous  Dana  family,  a  connection  of 
which  his  descendants  were  justly  proud.  The  original 
Dana  ancestor  was  also  a  Cambridge  settler,  Richard 
by  name,  who  married  Anne  Bullard.  His  grandson, 
by  his  son  Daniel  (who  married  Naomi  Crosswell), 
was  Mr.  Justice  Richard  Dana,  whose  death  in  1772 
deprived  the  patriots  of  those  stormy  days  of  one  of 
their  foremost  and  ablest  leaders.  Justice  Dana  was 
unquestionably  at  the  head  of  the  Massachusetts  bar, 
an  authority  on  the  precedents  in  American  cases 
more  quoted  by  Story  than  any  other  pleader  of  his 
time.  He  is  one  of  the  figures  in  Hawthorne's  sketch, 
given  in  his  "Grandfather's  Chair,"  of  the  episode  in 


4  William  Hamilton  Gibson 

the  drama  of  pre-Revolutionary  agitation,  when  An- 
drew Oliver  made  oath  to  take  no  measures  to  enforce 
the  Stamp  Act.  One  of  his  brothers  was  Francis 
Dana,  Chief  Justice  of  Massachusetts,  and  ambassador 
to  Russia,  whose  wife  was  Elizabeth  Ellery,  and  whose 
son  Richard  Henry  left  a  name  always  honorable  in 
the  history  of  American  letters.  Richard  Dana's  daugh- 
ter Lydia  married  John  Hastings,  a  descendant  of  both 
the  famous  John  Cottons  of  Boston  renown.  Their 
daughter  Frances  M.,  married  to  Thomas  Gibson,  was 
the  mother  of  Edmund  Trowbridge  Hastings  Gibson, 
and  grandmother  of  William  Hamilton  Gibson.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  the  latter  should  write  to  an  inquiring 
friend : 

"  You  ask  whether  I  am  a  New  Englander.  Let 
me  set  your  heart  at  rest  by  telling  you  that  I  am  a 
way-back  Puritan.  The  race  has  been  petering  out 
from  old  John  Cotton  down  through  a  long  list  of 
historical  men  whom  I  am  glad  to  own  as  ancestors. 
(I  don't  count  some  of  the  earlier  Lords  and  Ladies  to 
whom  I  trace  my  lineage — they  are  a  pretty  bad  lot  to 
my  thinking.)  I  honor  the  humble  names  of  several 
of  my  progenitors  who  lived  and  died  in  the  love  and 
respect  of  their  fellow  men,  and  have  some  reason  to 
feel  a  little  pride  in  being  able  to  allude  to  Justice 
Richard  Dana,  of  Massachusetts,  as  my  great-great- 
grandfather, and  a  lineage  which  embraces  the  names 
of  Washington  Allston,  Ellery  Channing,  and  others 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  5 

equally  noble  and  worthy  ;  and  now  it  has  come  down 
to  me  in  this  branch  of  the  family.  Yes,  I  am  New 
England  to  the  core.  No  other  place  on  earth  will 
ever  be  so  near  and  dear  or  carry  me  to  loftier  moun- 
tain tops." 

From  the  old  country  home  and  its  surroundings 
the  lad  of  ten  years  went  to  a  school  which  was 
probably  as  well-adapted  to  his  temper  and  tastes  as 
any  which  could  have  been  selected.  At  any  rate  it 
was  a  school  to  which  he  became  profoundly  attached, 
and  whose  master  he  was  to  count  among  the  dearest 
and  closest  friends  of  a  lifetime.  The  ' '  Gunn  School," 
or  the  "Gunnery,"  as  it  came  to  be  called,  was  one 
of  the  famous  institutions  of  this  country,  a  school 
which  left  its  indelible  mark  upon  many  a  boy  whose 
maturity  was  to  be  eminent  and  useful  in  the  national 
life.  It  was  a  school  unique  in  its  theory  and  without 
rivals  in  its  practice.  Its  founder  and  head  was  Fred- 
erick W.  Gunn,  a  native  of  Washington,  Connecticut, 
where  he  spent  his  life,  did  his  great  and  good  work, 
and  died  in  a  ripe  old  age.  He  was  a  man  of  rare 
character  and  gifts.  Large-hearted  and  large-minded, 
with  a  religious  and  ethical  nature  of  the  most  positive 
kind,  he  was  a  man  predestined  to  influence  others, 
and  mold  the  lives  of  youth.  Though  he  was  an 
" abolitionist"  in  days  when  that  term  carried  with  it 
intensest  odium  and  social  proscription,  and  a  dis- 
senter from  conventional  orthodoxy  in  a  time  when 


6  William  Hamilton  Gibson 

to  differ  from  established  standards  was  to  write  one's 
self  down  an  "infidel,"  he  was  a  successful  teacher, 
and  made  and  maintained  a  series  of  schools,  which 
finally  grew  into  the  noble  "  Gunnery,"  a  term  at  first 
used  by  the  boys  facetiously,  but  so  apt  and  so  happy 
as  to  be  officially  adopted  as  the  title  of  the  school. 
One  of  his  old  pupils,  writing  of  the  character  of  the 
institution,  says  : 

"When  Mr.  Gunn  called  the  school  which  his 
genius  had  established  '  a  home  for  boys '  he  stated 
the  simple  and  exact  truth.  .  .  .  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gunn  both  had  the  parental  instinct  so  strong  that 
they  really  took  to  their  hearts  each  individual  boy, 
and  brooded  over  him  as  if  he  were  their  own  flesh 
and  blood." 

This  home-school  and  school-home  in  one  was  con- 
ducted as  a  miniature  republic  ;  its  aim  was  all-round, 
symmetrical  character ;  its  method  grew  out  of  the 
hearty,  wholesome,  honest,  and  loving  nature  of  its 
head  ;  its  spirit  was  justice  and  love.  Perhaps  it  was 
not  a  school  where  "marks"  counted  for  a  great 
deal ;  and  the  drill  in  books  may  not  have  been  as 
severe  and  systematic  as  in  some  institutions.  But 
the  boy  who  went  to  the  "Gunnery  "  was  pretty  sure 
to  imbibe  some  notions  of  honor,  justice,  kindliness, 
and  obedience  which  he  never  forgot.  As  one  of  the 
old  pupils  writes  : 

"We  recall  an  era  of  uncurbed  freedom  in  a  spot 


S5C& 


M 


I 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  7 

hallowed  by  home  affections  without  home  effemi- 
nacies ;  where  every  bad  trait  of  a  boy  was  systemati- 
cally assailed  and  every  good  trait  strengthened,  so 
far  as  might  be,  so  as  to  take  its  final  place  in  an 
enduring  character  and  robust  manhood." 

Gibson  himself  has  given  a  tender  and  vivid  picture 
of  the  school  which  played  so  large  a  part  in  his  life, 
in  the  pages  of  "  Pastoral  Days"  : 

"  How  lightly  did  I  appreciate  the  fortunate  journey 
when,  twenty  summers  ago,  I  followed  this  road  for 
the  first  time,  when  a  boy  of  ten  years,  on  my  way 
to  an  unknown  village,  I  looked  across  the  landscape 
to  the  little  spires  on  that  distant  hill !  Little  did  I 
dream  of  the  six  years  of  unmixed  happiness  and 
precious  experience  that  awaited  me  in  that  little 
Judea  !  I  only  knew  that  I  was  sadly  quitting  a 
happy  home  on  my  way  to  'boarding-school' — a 
school  called  the  Snuggery,  taught  by  a  Mr.  Snug,  in 
a  little  village  named  Snug  Hamlet,  about  twenty 
miles  from  Hometown. 

"There  are  some  experiences  in  the  life  of  every 
one  which,  however  truthful,  cannot  be  told  but  to 
elicit  the  doubtful  nod  or  the  warning  finger  of  incre- 
dulity. They  were  such  experiences  as  these,  how- 
ever, that  made  up  the  sum  of  my  early  life  in  that 
happy  refuge  called  in  modern  parlance  a  '  boarding- 
school' —  a  name  as  empty,  a  word  as  weak  and 
tame  in  its  significance,  as  poverty  itself  ;  no  doubt 


8  William  Hamilton  Gibson 

abundantly  expressive  in  its  ordinary  application,  but 
here  it  is  a  mockery  and  a  satire.  This  is  not  a  '  board- 
ing-school ' ;  it  is  a  household,  whose  memories 
moisten  the  eye  and  stir  the  soul  ;  to  which  its  scat- 
tered members  through  the  fleeting  years  look  back 
as  to  a  neglected  home,  with  father  and  mother  dear, 
whom  they  long  once  more  to  meet  as  in  the  tender- 
"ness  of  boyhood  days  ;  a  cherished  remembrance 
which,  like  the  'house  upon  a  hill,  cannot  be  hid,'  but 
sends  abroad  its  light  unto  many  hearts  who  in  those 
early  days  sought  the  loving  shelter  ;  a  bright  star  in 
the  horizon  of  the  past,  a  glow  that  ne'er  grows  dim, 
but  only  kindles  and  brightens  with  the  flood  of 
years.  Yes,  yes  ;  I  know  it  sounds  like  a  dash  of 
sentiment,  but  words  of  mine  are  feeble  and  impotent 
indeed  when  sought  for  the  expression  of  an  attach- 
ment so  fond,  of  a  love  so  deep." 

Most  delightfully,  too,  does  he  blend  an  account,  in 
the  same  chapter,  of  a  return  to  the  old  school,  in  later 
years,  and  a  picture  of  the  characteristic  life  of  that 
school  as  it  lies  in  the  memories  of  many  successive 
generations  of  boys  who  passed  through  its 
scenes  : 

"It  is  eight  o'clock,  and  the  Snuggery  is  hushed  in 
the  quiet  of  the  study  hour,  and  as  we  look  through 
the  windows  we  see  the  little  groups  of  studious  lads 
bending  over  their  books.  Turning  a  corner  on  the 
piazza,  we  are  confronted  with  a  tall  hexagonal  struc- 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  9 

ture  at  its  farther  end.  This  is  the  Tower,  the  lower 
room  of  which  is  consecrated  to  the  cozy  retirement 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Snug.  The  door  leading  to  the  porch 
is  open,  and,  as  if  awakening  from  a  nap  in  which 
the  past  fifteen  years  have  been  a  dream,  I  listen  to  the 
same  dear  voice.  I  approach  nearer.  Under  the  glow 
of  a  student's  lamp  I  look  upon  the  beloved  face,  the 
flowing  hair  and  beard  now  silvered  with  the  lapse  of 
years  —  a  face  of  unusual  firmness,  but  whose  every 
line  marks  the  expression  of  a  tender,  loving  nature, 
and  of  a  large  and  noble  heart.  Near  him  another 
sits — a  helpmeet  kind  and  true,  cherished  companion 
in  a  happy,  useful  life.  Into  her  lap  a  nestling  lad  has 
climbed  ;  and  as  she  strokes  the  curly  head  and  looks 
into  the  chubby  face,  I  see  the  same  expression  as  of 
old,  the  same  motherly  tenderness  and  love  beaming 
from  the  large  gray  eyes. 

"Mr.  Snug  is  leaning  back  in  his  easy-chair,  and  two 
boys  are  standing  up  before  him  ;  one  of  them  is 
speaking,  evidently  in  answer  to  a  question. 

'I  called  him  a  galoot,  sir.' 

'You  called  George  a  galoot,  and  then  he  threw 
the  base-ball  club  at  you — is  that  it  ? ' 

'Yes,  sir,'  interrupted  George;  'but  I  was  only 
playing,  sir.' 

'Yes/  resumed  the  voice  of  Mr.  Snug,  'but  that 
club  went  with  considerable  force,  and  landed  over  the 
fence,  and  made  havoc  in  Deacon  Parish's  onion-bed ; 


io         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

and  that  reminds  me  that  the  deacon's  onion-bed 
is  overrun  with  weeds.  Now,  Willie,'  continued  Mr. 
Snug,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  with  eyes  closed, 
and  head  thrown  back  against  the  chair,  'Saturday 
morning — to-morrow,  that  is — directly  after  breakfast, 
you  go  out  into  the  grove  and  call  names  to  the  big 
rock  for  half  an  hour.  Don't  stop  to  take  breath ;  and 
don't  call  the  same  name  twice.  Your  vocabulary 
will  easily  stand  the  drain.  You  understand  ? ' 

'  Yes,  sir.' 

'And,  George,'  continued  Mr.  Snug,  with  delib- 
erate, easy  intonation,  'to-morrow  morning,  at  the 
same  time,  you  present  yourself  politely  to  Deacon 
Parish,  tell  him  that  1  sent  you,  and  ask  him  to  escort 
you  to  his  onion-bed.  After  which  you  will  go  care- 
fully to  work  and  pull  out  all  the  weeds.  You  under- 
stand, sir?' 

'Yes,  sir.' 

'And  then  you  will  both  report  to  me  as  usual.' 
And  with  a  pleasant  smile,  which  was  reflected  in 
both  their  faces,  the  erring  youngsters  were  dismissed. 
Before  the  door  has  closed  behind  them  we  are  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway.  Here  I  draw  the  curtain;  for 
who  but  one  of  its  own  household  could  understand  a 
welcome  at  the  Snuggery  ?  " 

No  feature  of  the  "Gunnery"  life  is  more  interest- 
ing to  the  old  scholar  or  to  outsiders  than  the  ingen- 
ious and  effective  punishments  invented  by  Mr.  Gunn 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  n 

for  the  less  serious  and  still  important  offenses  inevita- 
ble in  such  a  community.  He  made  early  application 
of  the  principles  so  earnestly  defended  in  Herbert 
Spencer's  "Education"  and  contrived  to  ''make  the 
punishment  fit  the  crime  "  in  a  manner  worthy  of  W. 
S.  Gilbert's  famous  "Mikado."  His  memorialist,  en- 
larging on  this  phase  of  the  "Gunnery"  life,  thus 
enumerates  "the  grotesque  punishments  which  Mr. 
Gunn  visited  on  petty  offenses  in  his  school  and 
family  " : 

"A  boy  of  uncommon  diffidence  might  be  sent  to 
call  on  some  village  spinster  or,  worse  yet  for  the 
blushing  youngster,  on  some  comely  village  lass.  A 
youth  too  boisterous  would  be  dismissed  for  a  four- 
mile  walk,  ordered  to  hold  a  chip  in  his  mouth  for  an 
hour,  or  to  run  a  dozen  times  around  the  church  on 
the  Green,  sounding  the  tin  dinner-horn  at  each  corner 
in  rotation.  Two  small  boys  caught  fighting  were 
often  ordered  to  sit,  one  in  the  other's  lap,  taking  turns 
thus  for  an  hour  or  two.  Pounding  a  log  with  a 
heavy  club  was  a  favorite  panacea  for  superfluous 
energy  in  the  family  sitting-room.  Once  a  mischiev- 
ous youngster  was  seen  sprinkling  a  dog's  face  with 
water  at  the  tank  behind  the  Gunnery.  The  master, 
who  had  a  tender  spot  in  his  heart  for  animals,  stole 
up  behind  the  offender  and  ducked  him  liberally,  to 
give  him,  as  he  said  afterward,  an  inkling  of  the  feel- 
ings of  the  dog.  At  the  Gunnery  it  used  to  be  a  custom 


12          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

to  allow  a  boy  to  take  the  anniversary  of  his  birth 
as  a  holiday,  and  a  too  clever  lad  was  detected  by  Mr. 
Gunn  celebrating  thus  his  third  birthday  within  a 
single  year.  The  next  genuine  anniversary  of  the 
boy's  birth  came  on  a  Saturday,  which  the  recusant 
celebrated  by  hugging  a  tree  for  several  hours  while 
his  schoolmates  enjoyed  the  regular  school  holiday. 
A  resident  of  Washington  tells  how,  years  ago,  he 
found  at  the  fork  of  two  roads  and  hugging  a  sign- 
post in  anything  but  sentimental  fashion  a  youth 
whose  only  reply  to  questions  was,  ' I'm  a  poor  mis- 
erable sinner,'  that  being  the  formula  of  penance 
which  the  master  had  prescribed.  A  dozen  lads  some 
twenty  years  ago  were  caught  raiding  the  bough-apple 
trees  of  the  neighbors.  Mr.  Gunn  made  them  draw 
up  a  formal  address  of  apology,  bear  it  in  procession 
to  each  of  the  amazed  owners  of  the  trees,  read  it  on 
their  knees,  and  pray  forgiveness.  A  single  truant 
once  caught  committing  the  same  offense  in  the 
orchard  of  a  poor  widow  was  sent  to  work  all  day 
picking  up  stones  in  one  of  her  fields. 

"Actual  wickedness  was  severely  punished  by  Mr. 
Gunn,  sometimes  in  the  good,  old-fashioned  way;  but 
his  motive  in  inflicting  for  minor  faults  the  odd  penal- 
ties here  alluded  to  seemed  to  be  to  take  cognizance  of 
the  error  in  a  manner  that  would  sufficiently  incom- 
mode the  culprit  without  hurting  his  self-respect  or 
leaving  an  angry  smart.  The  boy  appreciated  the 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  13 

fact  that  'he  stood  corrected';  but  he  also  appreci- 
ated the  humorous  side  of  the  penalty.  Those  who 
revisited  Washington  after  leaving  school  sought  no 
familiar  haunt  with  more  interest  than  the  shrines  to 
which  they  had  made  penitential  pilgrimages  under 
orders— Kirby  Corners,  a  gentle  jog  around  the  square; 
the  old  sawmill  in  the  hollow,  which,  visited  at  night, 
was  weird  and  ghostly  enough  to  sober  the  wildest 
urchin ;  Moody  Barn,  as  redolent  of  pleasant  memories 
as  of  new-mown  hay;  and,  for  more  serious  faults, 
distant  'Judd's  Bridge/ 

"He  insisted  on  neatness  and  order,  and  often  a 
family  meeting  was  called  and  made  a  court  of  inquiry 
over  a  bit  of  paper  found  on  the  lawn,  or  a  peanut- 
shuck  on  the  stairs.  Once  there  was  a  question  as  to  the 
history  of  several  pieces  of  orange-peel  in  the  grass  in 
front  of  the  house.  The  forty  boys  were  summoned 
and  made  to  stand  in  a  row  on  the  long  piazza.  Mr. 
Gunn  called  upon  each  one  to  state  what  he  knew 
about  the  orange-peel,  and  at  the  end  of  the  investiga- 
tion he  formed  the  dozen  or  more  culprits  into  file,  the 
tallest  at  the  head,  and  made  them  march  in  solemn 
procession  about  the  yard  until  they  had  picked  up  all 
the  offending  scraps,  and  then  to  the  pig-sty  to  deposit 
them  in  their  proper  place." 

There  is  a  delightful  paragraph  in  a  letter  which 
Gibson  wrote  home  to  his  brothers,  in  which  he  tells 


14          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

in  a  boy's  quaint  way  of  one  of  these  ingenious  penal- 
ties which  was  visited  on  himself. 

"One  day  I  and  two  other  boys  eat  some  walnuts 
in  church  in  the  meeting  time.  Mr.  Gunn  found  it 
out.  He  made  us  three  boys  take  the  rest  of  our  wal- 
nuts up  to  the  minister.  We  did  so  and  the  minister 
gave  us  his  thanks  for  the  walnuts,  and  asked  us  if  we 
would  not  have  some  supper,  for  it  was  supper  time. 
We  refused  and  left.  He  told  us  not  to  eat  any  more." 

But  Mr.  Gunn  could  administer  as  sharp  reprimands 
to  parents  and  older  folk  as  he  could  to  the  boys  who 
were  his  pupils.  There  is  a  plaintive  letter  from  Gibson 
to  his  father,  growing  yellow  now,  with  age,  in  which 
the  heart  of  the  little  boy  is  uncovered,  and  his  longing 
for  letters  from  home  is  touchingly  revealed.  And  the 
fatherly,  warm-hearted  teacher  had  evidently  read  it, 
and  his  soul  burned  within  him.  So  he  wrote  upon 
the  back  page  of  the  little  note  the  following  admoni- 
tory words,  which  must  have  elicited  a  letter  by  return 
mail: 

' '  MY  DEAR  SIR  :  It  seems  to  me  if  I  had  such  a  dear 
little  son  as  Willie  Gibson,  sent  away  from  home  to  a 
boarding  school,  and  thrown  upon  the  cold  charities 
of  the  world,  so  proverbially  heartless  and  selfish  as 
the  ministers  say  it  is,  I  would  require  one  of  the  clerks 
to  write  to  him  once  or  twice  a  quarter.  Willie  is 
happy  in  his  present  relations,  but  somewhat  anxious 
about  the  friends  he  left  behind  him.  He  presumes 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  15 

his  parents  are  well,  not  having  seen  their  names  in 
the  papers,  but  would  feel  more  sure  if  he  heard  from 
them.  Willie  is  a  dear  little  fellow,  just  as  good  as  he 
can  be.  Should  you  think  it  best  to  write  to  him, 
direct  care  of  F.  W.  Gunn,  Washington,  Conn.  " ! 

These  are  words  like  rifle  bullets  ! 

Of  course  the  students  of  child  psychology  will  be 
interested  to  learn  whatever  is  worth  knowing  con- 
cerning the  appearance,  in  embryo,  of  the  man  Gibson 
in  the  boy  of  this  period.  There  is  satisfaction  for 
such  investigators  and  there  is  disappointment  as  well. 
There  are  many  intimations,  at  this  period,  of  the 
man  that  is  to  be.  There  are  traces  of  peculiarities 
which  wholly  disappeared  with  the  years.  There 
were  aptitudes  and  tastes  appearing  in  the  school- 
days at  the  Gunnery,  which  no  reprimands  and  no 
discouragements  could  subdue;  and  there  were  short- 
comings and  faults  which  the  years  were  destined 
utterly  to  efface.  It  certainly  seems  strange  to  find 
Mr.  Gunn  writing  to  the  boy's  mother,  "  Willie  has  not 
yet  learned  to  be  spontaneously  industrious.  I  know 
he  will  come  to  it.  He  improves";  and  again  to  his 
father,  "Willie  insists  that  he  is  getting  along  finely 
in  his  studies,  that  he  studies  very  hard,  and  is  doing 
well.  But  you  must  accept  this  with  some  grains  of 
allowance  for  a  boy's  favorable  judgment  of  himself. 
He  does  not  learn  as  fast  as  I  wish  to  have  him.  I 
think  his  tendency  to  take  on  fat  hinders  his  power  of 


1 6          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

industrious,  persevering  application;  he  is  getting  to  be 
quite  a  big  fellow,  and  I  urge  him  a  good  deal." 
When  one  remembers  that  the  most  marked  of  all  his 
traits  as  a  man  was  the  fierce  and  enthusiastic  zeal 
with  which  he  worked,  consuming  the  powers  of  a 
robust  physique  in  his  zest  for  toil,  one  is  moved  to 
be  very  patient  with  the  unpromising  side  of  a  child's 
nature.  It  may  take  a  great  while  to  become  "spon- 
taneously industrious " ;  but  Gibson's  experience 
shows  how  needless  it  is  to  be  despondent  because  a 
boy  does  not  work  with  a  man's  spirit.  Sufficient 
unto  the  age  are  the  traits  thereof. 

But  in  other  ways,  the  schoolboy  was  forecasting 
the  traits  of  the  mature  man.  There  is  a  mournful 
letter  preserved  out  of  these  years,  in  which  the  little 
fellow  writes  his  father  after  receiving  a  reprimand 
for  illustrating  his  letters  with  pen-and-ink  pictures. 
His  inborn  faculty  would  exhibit  itself,  and  the  home 
letters  were  filled  with  funny  and  interesting  sketches. 
But  that  did  not  seem  to  the  parental  mind  a  wise  use 
of  writing  materials.  So  the  embryo  artist  was 
warned  to  curb  his  passion  for  illustration.  He 
wrote  a  few  penitent  lines  in  response.  "  Next  comes 
about  the  writing.  I  own  that  I  am  very  foolish  in  put- 
ting those  pictures  in  my  letters,  and  I  won't  do  it  any 
more.  I  never  put  them  in  only  to  the  letters  home." 
Vain  promise!  It  was  one  more  attempt  to  drive  out 
nature  with  a  pitchfork ;  and  was  as  unsuccessful — as  it 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  17 

deserved  to  be.  The  artist-impulse  was  straining  and 
struggling  within  him  already  and  was  bound  to  assert 
itself  more  and  more  vigorously  till  it  should  triumph 
in  his  life-work. 

So,  too,  there  appeared  in  these  early  days  the  pas- 
sionate love  of  nature  which  was  to  be  a  controlling 
element  in  his '  later  years.  Botany  was  one  of  the 
studies  which  he  insisted  upon  taking  up  under  Mr. 
Gunn's  teaching.  There  was  a  little  family  contro- 
versy over  the  matter,  growing  out  of  the  mother's 
fear  that  the  really  practical  things  would  be  neglected 
in  this  passion  for  nature-study.  It  sounds  strange 
enough,  at  this  distance  in  time,  with  all  the  light  of 
the  boy's  later  life,  to  read  the  mother's  anxious 
words  : 

"We  wish  [Mr.  Gunn]  to  judge  and  direct  in  all 
these  things,  but  I  was  afraid  your  own  wish  and  the 
way  I  spoke  to  you  about  the  delight  of  studying 
Botany,  might  have  led  you  to  speak  so  positively  in 
choosing  it,  that  he  would  suppose  it  was  by  our 
direction.  If  you  really  do  take  up  Botany  you  must 
expect  to  find  that  it  is  not  all  play  either.  There  are 
hard  things  to  remember,  and  you  must  make  up  your 
mind  to  work  at  them  bravely  and  perseveringly  if 
you  are  determined  to  make  them  yours." 

A  little  sentence  later  in  the  same  letter  shows  the 
bent  of  the  boy.  His  mother,  referring  to  a  recent 
visit  of  his  father  to  the  school,  remarks  : 


1 8          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"I  was  afraid  when  your  father  told  me  how  he 
found  you  in  the  calamus  swamp,  that  you  would  be 
sick." 

That  tells  an  interesting  story  of  boyish  passion  for 
plants.  And  so  do  the  little  fellow's  letters  home. 
Very  early  in  his  life  at  the  Gunnery  he  wrote  to  his 
father  : 

"I  get  along  in  my  studies  in  Botany  very  well 
indeed,  and  he  has  described  two  or  three  plants,  one 
of  which  was  Marsh-marigold  or  the  Cowslip.  He 
has  analyzed  the  cherry  blossom  "  ;  and  Mr.  Gunn 
wrote  a  footnote  to  the  same  letter  saying  :  "He 
seems  delighted  with  Botany  and  makes  close  obser- 
vations." This  quality  of  his  mind,  cropping  out  in 
its  earliest  essays,  appears  again  and  again  in  these 
juvenile  letters.  They  are  well  worth  quoting,  as 
early  witnesses  to  the  attentive  eye,  the  retentive 
memory,  the  descriptive  power  which  were  part  of 
his  natural  and  congenital  outfit  for  his  life-work. 
One  of  them  divides  its  pages  between  art  and  natural 
history  : 

"My  paints  have  given  me  a  great  deal  of  fun.  I 
bought  a  blank  book  and  copied  several  pictures  in  it 
out  of  my  '  Harris's  Insects,'  and  I  also  painted  them, 
some  from  the  description  and  some  from  the  plates. 
I  have  one  page  of  beetles,  another  page  of  butterflies, 
etc.,  etc.  I  guess  when  I  get  it  done  it  will  be  ' bet- 
terish  nische. '  Everybody  comes  to  me  lately  to  have 


William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Age,  13 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  19 

me  draw  and  paint  them  a  valentine,  which  of  course 
1  do  for  some  of  them.  I  wish  that  in  your  next  letter 
you  would  send  me  a  couple  of  paint  brushes,  for  the 
hairs  of  mine  keep  coming  out  all  the  while. 

"That  same  feeling  has  come  over  me  that  I  used 
to  have  last  summer  when  I  was  after  bugs  and  but- 
terflies. The  other  day,  it  came  very  strong  and  I 
went  out  to  look  for  cocoons,  and  I  looked  and  looked, 
but  saw  nothing,  and  gave  it  up  entirely,  but  as  I  was 
coming  on  my  way  into  the  house  I  saw  some  small 
pear-trees  and  I  thought  that  1  would  look  on  them 
and  I  did,  and  saw  a  bunch  of  leaves.  I  looked  and 
saw  there  was  a  Cecropia  cocoon  done  up  in  them 
which  made  me  feel  like  an  eagle  darting  at  her  prey. 
I  grabbed  the  prize  and  kept  it  and  have  got  it  yet. 
We  have  got  a  new  minister  which  I  told  you  about. 
I  showed  it  to  him  and  he  told  me  to  call  and  see 
him  and  bring  it  to  him  and  he  then  asked  me  if  any 
boy  had  a  microscope.  I  told  him  yes  (for  Commo- 
dore has  got  a  Craig's  Microscope)  and  the  next  eve- 
ning Commodore  and  I  took  my  'Harris's  Insects' 
and  showed  it  to  him.  He  was  much  pleased  with  it 
and  is  going  to  get  one.  We  did  not  make  a  very 
long  call,  but  it  was  a  nice  one." 

Another  letter  to  his  mother  enlists  her  help  in  his 
entomological  interests  : 

"I  have  just  found  an  Imperial  moth  worm  on  a 
maple-tree.  Will  you  please  look  on  one  of  the  small 


20          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

apple-trees  in  the  orchard  near  the  place  where  the 
arbor  used  to  be,  and  on  that  row  of  small  apple-trees, 
there  is  a  tree  on  which  I  put  a  Cecropia  worm  for 
myself,  which  may  be  found  by  its  effects  under  the 
tree.  I  think  a  great  deal  of  it  or  I  would  n't  write 
about  it.  Have  you  found  any  worms  yet  ?  I  wish 
that  I  was  there  to  look  about  for  them,  or  I  wish 
that  there  was  somebody  there  who  would  look  after 
them  for  me,  for  it  is  such  a  splendid  place  for  them. 
The  boys  are  leaving  from  here,  very  fast,  and  we  all 
will  leave  in  13  days  more.  .  .  . 

"P.  S.  That  worm  that  I  told  you  about  on  the 
apple-tree,  if  very  large,  must  be  taken  off  and  put 
into  a  box  with  fresh  apple  leaves  every  day  ;  if 
small,  do  the  same." 

A  letter  which  he  wrote  in  1865  bears  witness  to 
the  trait  which  his  teacher  had  already  noted  —  his 
careful  observation.  He  made  pen-and-ink  drawings 
to  make  clear  what  flower  he  was  trying  to  identify, 
which  was  plainly  the  false  foxglove. 

"  I  have  been  out  in  several  places  and  have  stuck 
in  as  much  as  ten  stakes  in  different  places  where 
those  beautiful  scarlet  or  crimson  lilies  grow  and 
when  the  stalk  has  gone  I  will  take  them  up.  Satur- 
day I  intend  to  go  out  in  search  of  some  more.  There 
are  plenty  of  them,  and  sometimes  I  see  them  two  or 
three  on  one  stalk. 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  large  trumpet-creeper  is 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  21 

that  has  very  large  flowers  of  a  red  color  ?  One  used 
to  grow  at  the  east  end  of  the  back  piazza,  up  against 
the  side  of  the  house.  Well,  there  is  a  flower  of  the 
same  shape  and  kind  of  a  beautiful  yellow  color,  but 
it  grows  like  a  primrose  ;  on  one  stalk  there  are  over 
20  flowers  of  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length.  The 
tops  of  the  buds  seem  to  be  lapped  over  each  other, 
and  when  there  are  blossoms  they  look  very  pretty. 
I  am  going  to  try  and  get  it  for  you,  but  I  don't  know 
whether  it  has  seed  or  not.  I  suppose  not.  Never- 
theless, I  '11  try  and  get  it  for  you,  for  it  is  very  pretty. 

"In  a  garden  up  here  there  is  a  kind  of  'Colum- 
bine/ very  large,  of  two  kinds,  purple  and  white  and 
very  large.  I  am  welcome  to  all  the  seed  that  I  want. 
I  don't  know  whether  you  want  any  or  not,  but 
nevertheless  I  '11  get  you  a  lot. 

"Here  I  must  stop.     I  remain 

"Your  aff.  son  WILLIE." 

The  boy  was  fortunate  in  his  mother,  whose  fine 
nature,  trained  tastes,  and  Christian  spirit  moved  and 
moulded  the  best  there  was  in  him.  Her  letters  to 
the  little  pupil  are  models  of  maternal  sympathy,  and 
reflect  very  vividly  the  boy's  strong  passion  for  living 
things  and  the  study  of  them.  One  of  her  character- 
istic messages  went  to  him  in  1862,  and  reveals  her 
own  interest  in  the  pursuits  which  were  delighting 
her  children  and  which  were  destined  to  mean  so 
much  to  the  boy  she  was  writing  to  : 


22          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"How  are  your  friends  and  dear  companions,  the 
worms  ?  I  missed  them  very  much  after  you  had 
gone,  and  often  found  myself  stepping  carefully  and 
looking  down  to  the  right  and  the  left  in  crossing  the 
upper  hall,  expecting  to  see  some  green  or  brown 
thing  crawling  about.  The  great  drawer  I  gave  you, 
we  call  'the  worm  drawer'  yet,  and  I  don't  know  as 
I  shall  ever  open  it  comfortably  again.  The  peaceable 
and  innocent  rolls  of  linen  and  sewing  lie  in  it  now, 
just  as  they  used  before  you  had  it,  but  sometimes  I 
forget  and  open  the  one  under  it  cautiously,  expecting 
to  see  some  of  your  treasures  dropped  through  again, 
on  my  things.  Henry  and  Julie  are  making  collections 
now  also,  and  Cottie  brought  home,  the  other  day,  the 
finest,  largest  specimen  I  ever  saw,  of  the  sort  you 
called  '  Polyphemus'  ?  It  was  of  immense  size,  and  a 
very  bright  healthy  color,  both  in  its  body  and  in  those 
little  tufts  that  stud  it  all  over.  He  laid  it  away  very 
carefully,  and  left  it  in  peace  a  few  days,  and  yester- 
day, behold  it  had  spun  a  cocoon  in  its  box  as  large  as 
a  butternut,  and  as  strong  as  linen,  of  a  beautiful  red- 
dish brown.  We  shall  expect  the  moth  with  great 
interest.  The  children  are  too  impatient  to  hurry  up 
business  with  their  worms.  They  are  forever  opening 
the  boxes,  and  lifting  and  handling  the  creatures,  so 
that  I  should  think  the  poor  things  would  despair  of 
ever  getting  a  chance  to  set  their  houses  in  order,  at 
all/' 


A  Fortunate  Boyhood  23 

His  relations  with  his  mother  were  always  close  and 
sympathetic.  She  was  a  rare  nature,  refined  and  cul- 
tivated, with  a  strong  literary  bent  and  deep  religious 
feeling.  She  wrote  not  a  little,  contributing  to  the 
pages  of  "The  Christian  Union  "  and  other  publications. 
She  scrupulously  kept  all  the  boy's  letters  from  his 
schooldays  forward  through  the  years.  One  of  the 
cherished  mementos  of  her  life  was  a  little  manu- 
script volume,  which  bears  the  inscription  :  "I  leave 
this  book  to  my  son  William."  It  is  a  record  of  her 
study  of  the  Bible,  her  grapple  with  the  great  prob- 
lems of  ethical  and  theological  thought,  prayers  in 
which  she  has  uttered  the  aspirations  of  a  reverent 
spirit  insistently  seeking  light  through  all  the  con- 
fusion and  shadow  of  modern  speculation,  comment 
upon  the  great  books  which  were  stirring  Christen- 
dom and  sounding  the  note  of  the  new  thought  about 
Christ  and  Christianity.  To  read  them  is  to  discover 
the  sources  of  the  son's  deep  reverence  and  broad,  un- 
conventional religious  life.  It  is  to  feel  anew  the 
unconscious  power  of  motherhood  in  shaping  the  duc- 
tile spirit  of  childhood,  and  to  be  certain  that  the  light 
of  such  a  spirit  was  a  very  pillar  of  fire  to  the  soul  of 
her  son. 


CHAPTER  II 

CALLING   AND   ELECTION 

IT  was  between  the  years  1866  and  1868  that  the 
great  crisis  of  young  Gibson's  life  occurred;  and  a 
series  of  influences  and  incidents  befell,  which  were 
decisive  in  settling  the  great  questions  of  his  life-work 
and  of  the  spirit  in  which  he  would  undertake  it. 

The  latter  of  the  two  was  the  first  to  be  decided. 
It  was  at  this  period  of  his  life  that  the  boy  experi- 
enced one  of  those  changes  in  disposition,  which 
was  like  the  awakening  or  the  sudden  unfolding  of 
the  real  self,  hitherto  hidden  under  apparently  opposite 
traits.  While  he  was  at  the  Gunnery,  Gibson  had 
troubled  the  soul  of  his  teacher,  as  we  have  seen, 
because  he  had  not,  as  Mr.  Gunn  put  it,  "  learned  to 
be  spontaneously  industrious."  But  during  the  years 
immediately  following,  while  he  was  yet  at  the  Poly- 
technic, he  "  came  to  himself."  He  had  been  an  easy- 
going boy,  rather  indolent  in  habit,  or  at  least  deficient 
in  the  power  of  industrious,  persevering  application. 
But  now  he  began  to  show  a  love  of  work,  to  love  it 
for  its  own  sake,  to  plan  it,  and  to  seek  it  of  his  own 
volition.  He  took  a  vigorous  hold  upon  his  studies 
at  the  Polytechnic.  He  found  a  new  delight,  as  well 

24 


Calling  and  Election  25 

as  a  sustained,  deep-seated  interest  in  his  drawing. 
He  took  up  a  new  pursuit,  to  which  he  devoted  his 
spare  hours  to  such  good  purpose  that  he  mastered  it 
in  astonishingly  little  time,  and  carried  it  to  a  high 
point  of  skill.  Chancing  to  see  some  wax-flowers 
made  by  an  expert  of  his  time  in  Brooklyn,  he  promptly 
decided  that  the  art  was  one  which  he  could  master. 
After  some  essays  of  his  own,  he  put  himself  under 
the  instruction  of  this  teacher,  who  soon  told  the  boy 
that  he  could  teach  him  no  more.  There  are  some 
wonderful  stories  floating  down  from  those  days  con- 
cerning the  work  he  did  in  this  medium,  so  fine  in  its 
imitative  perfection  as  to  deceive  the  very  elect. 
One,  in  particular,  is  to  the  effect  that  a  cluster  of 
blossoms  which  he  had  modeled  and  carried,  as  a 
gift,  to  Mr.  Beecher's  home,  stood  upon  a  table  in  a 
little  vase  when  Mrs.  Beecher  saw  it  for  the  first  time. 
She  took  up  the  vase,  and,  raising  it  to  inhale  the  fra- 
grance which  it  promised,  had  crushed  the  delicate 
work  before  she  discovered  the  illusion.  Apocryphal 
or  not,  the  story  shows  the  impression  his  work  made 
upon  his  early  admirers. 

But  the  time  had  come  which  was  to  put  his  ear- 
nestness and  force  to  the  test.  His  father's  death  in 
1868  had  made  it  necessary  that  he  should  hasten  to 
choose  a  career  and  begin  his  self-support.  Few 
young  men  are  "called"  to  any  special  work  in  life; 
fewer  still  "elect,"  of  their  own  free  will,  the  thing 


26          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

they  will  do  because  it  is  the  thing  they  must  do, 
beyond  a  doubt.  And  Gibson  began  by  showing 
himself  no  different  from  other  youth;  he  was  to 
discover  his  distinction  later.  For  no  particular 
reason,  save  that  it  was  suggested  to  him  by  a 
business  friend  and  adviser  of  whom  he  sought  coun- 
sel, he  took  up  life-insurance,  and  became  an  agent 
for  a  leading  company  of  his  time.  It  gives  one  a 
strange  feeling  of  incongruity  to  read  the  little  business 
card,  bearing  the  title  of  the  "Home  Life  Insurance 
Company,"  announcing  "Wm.  H.  Gibson,  General 
Agent,  103  Fulton  Street,  Brooklyn,"  with  "Office 
hours,  9  to  10."  One  thinks  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 
in  the  custom-house  at  Salem ;  of  Charles  Lamb  at  his 
clerk's  desk  in  East  India  House;  and  experiences  a 
deep  sense  of  relief  that  this  new  genius  had  the  grace 
and  the  strength  to  escape  from  an  uncongenial  pur- 
suit and  follow  the  urgings  of  his  own  spirit.  The 
business  had  no  attractions  for  the  boy.  He  wanted 
to  draw.  He  was  yearning  after  open  fields  and  wide 
horizons.  There  was  a  craving  in  his  nature  which 
was  at  once  an  outcry  for  a  life  of  self-utterance  by  the 
means  and  methods  of  art,  and  a  protest  against  a  life 
spent  in  what  is  called,  with  cool  disparagement  of 
other  pursuits,  "business."  The  young  man  felt  that 
the  one  career  would  mean  self-expression,  with  all 
its  joy,  its  power,  its  peace;  while  the  other  would 
be  a  self-repression,  continual,  galling,  paralyzing. 


Calling  and  Election  27 

He  was  born  to  be  a  student  of  nature  and  to  tell  her 
story  to  the  men  and  women  who  had  not  his  endow- 
ment. The  hour  had  come  in  which  he  was  to  decide 
whether  he  could  heed  his  call,  believe  in  himself, 
choose  the  path  which  invited  him  to  labors  that 
fitted  his  nature,  and  dare  all  its  difficulties  for  the 
sake  of  being  true  to  his  own  soul.  The  situation 
was  not  new.  It  is  no  unusual  thing  for  young  men 
to  waver  between  such  rival  purposes.  But  the 
interest  of  such  a  crisis  never  wanes.  It  is  always  a 
trial  of  the  real  stuff  and  fiber  of  the  individual.  It  is  an 
experience  which  the  youth  must  bear  alone.  But  the 
gain  belongs  to  all  men  when  the  decision  is  made 
which  seals  a  life  to  devotion  to  its  own  highest  ideal. 
There  is  nothing  to  record  the  inward  struggle  of 
those  days,  save  the  quick  resolve  which  he  made, 
and  the  abrupt  turn  in  his  purpose.  In  the  course  of 
his  calls  to  solicit  business  he  chanced  upon  an  ac- 
quaintance who  was  a  draughtsman,  and  found  him 
engaged  in  drawing  upon  the  block.  Gibson  watched 
him  a  while,  and  forgot  his  errand  in  the  sight  of  this 
congenial  work.  As  he  told  a  friend,  years  after- 
ward: "After  looking  on  fora  few  moments,  I 
decided  that  I  could  do  such  work  as  well  as  he.  I 
learned  where  the  blocks  could  be  bought  and  went 
off  immediately  to  invest  in  a  quantity  of  the  ma- 
terial. From  that  moment  I  abandoned  everything 
else,  and  set  to  work  at  drawing."  This  was  in  truth 


28          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

the  Rubicon  of  his  life.  In  the  decision  it  marks,  young 
Gibson  yielded  to  his  own  most  honorable  ambitions. 
He  elected  what  was  probably  the  harder  way,  if  we 
count  discouragements  of  one  sort  and  another,  the 
dampening  predictions  of  the  critical  and  experienced, 
the  warnings  and  dissuasions  of  his  best  friends. 
Even  in  a  financial  way,  it  meant  straitened  circum- 
stances, hard  work  for  small  pay,  and  years  of  the 
most  strenuous  effort,  before  he  could  obtain  the  rec- 
ognition which  meant  a  market  for  his  wares.  By  so 
much  the  more  must  we  esteem  his  courage,  his  faith 
in  himself,  his  willingness  to  pay  the  high  price  of  toil 
and  patient  waiting  for  the  success  which  came  at 
last. 

One  hardly  does  justice  to  the  boldness  of  the  young 
man's  resolve  until  he  remembers  that  Gibson  was 
proposing  to  begin  his  career  as  an  artist  with  nothing 
but  his  native  genius  as  a  warrant  of  success.  He  was 
wholly  lacking  in  training,  as  later  days  would  under- 
stand it.  He  had  studied  art  in  no  school.  He  had 
received  the  teaching  of  no  master-artist.  All  that  he 
could  do  was  what  he  had  worked  out  for  himself. 
It  would  seem  almost  audacious,  even  reckless,  for  a 
young  man  to  rush  into  the  field  of  illustration  with 
no  more  preparation  either  to  fit  him  to  do  intelligent 
work  or  to  discover  to  himself  whether  he  really  pos- 
sessed abilities  which  would  make  his  venture  worth 
while.  Untaught  and  unpractised,  save  in  the  desul- 


William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Age,  17 


Calling  and  Election  29 

tory  way  of  a  boy's  attempts  to  express  his  own  ideas 
with  the  pencil,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could 
and  that  he  would  do  as  good  artistic  work  as  any- 
body. The  intrepidity  of  youth  is  either  ridiculous 
or  it  is  sublime.  Perhaps  we  must  let  events  decide 
which  it  is.  In  this  case  the  years  made  Gibson's 
daring  spirit  seem  the  truest  courage.  Yet  one  holds 
his  breath  as  he  thinks  of  this  boy  boldly  walking  into 
the  offices  of  the  Harper  Brothers,  with  his  drawings 
on  wood,  to  offer  them  for  sale. 

It  is  small  wonder  that  they  did  not  find  acceptance 
in  this  exacting  quarter.  Gibson,  armed  with  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  the  Harpers,  had  gone  to  one  of  the 
firm,  who  turned  him  over  to  Charles  Parsons,  the 
head  of  the  art  department.  It  was  arranged  that  he 
should  have  two  weeks'  trial,  to  test  his  capacity. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  Mr.  Parsons  said  to  him,  in 
substance,  "I  do  not  see  that  you  will  ever  succeed 
in  an  artistic  career.  I  advise  you  to  drop  it  at  once, 
and  go  into  some  other  pursuit.  I  do  not  feel  justified 
in  recommending  you  to  go  on."  This  judgment  was 
as  kindly  in  intention  as  it  was  candid  in  tone.  It 
was  the  verdict  of  a  cool-headed  critic  as  well  as  an 
honest  friend.  It  ought  to  have  put  an  end  to  Gibson's 
aspirations.  It  is  the  joy  of  all  his  friends  to  remem- 
ber how  he  met  this  rebuff.  He  insisted  that  he 
should  go  on;  he  knew  what  he  could  do,  and  he 
meant  to  show  other  people.  Nothing  could  deter, 


3o          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

nothing  could  discourage  him.  "Very  well,"  said 
Mr.  Parsons,  " whatever  you  do,  do  your  best;  and 
show  me  your  work  from  time  to  time." 

So  Gibson  turned  from  the  doors  which  afterward 
opened  to  him  so  eagerly,  and  traveled  on  in  search 
of  appreciation  and  a  market.  He  found  both  at  the 
hands  of  John  G.  Shea,  then  of  Frank  Leslie's  house, 
who  bought  his  drawings  for  "The  Chimney  Corner  " 
and  "The  Boys' and  Girls' Weekly."  "I  began  to 
pay  my  way,"  said  Gibson  in  a  newspaper  interview, 
"as  soon  as  I  met  him.  It  was  he  who  first  suggested 
to  me  that  I  might  furnish  text  with  my  drawings; 
and  then  I  received  double  pay."  Soon  after  this  he 
began  to  furnish  botanical  drawings  for  "The  Amer- 
ican Agriculturist."  His  work  was  so  acceptable  that 
he  was  invited  to  take  a  desk  in  the  offices  of  the 
publication,  and  he  here  became  acquainted  with  J.  C. 
Beard,  Jr.,  with  whom  he  had  a  life-long  friendship. 
An  opportunity  occurring  to  furnish  drawings  for 
botanical  articles  in  Appleton's  "Encyclopaedia,"  Gib- 
son undertook  the  task;  and  when  this  led  to  a  dis- 
agreement with  the  manager  of  the  "Agriculturist,"  he 
and  Beard  left  the  paper  and  took  a  room  by  them- 
selves, in  John  Street.  Here  the  orders  began  to  come 
in,  besides  what  they  were  doing  for  Leslie  and 
Appleton,  from  various  lithographers.  The  young 
men  led  a  happy  life,  full  of  hard  work,  good  fellow- 
ship, ambitious  plans.  Gibson  was  absorbed  in  his 


Calling  and  Election  31 

pursuits.  He  shrank  from  nothing  because  it  was 
hard  or  because  it  was  humble.  He  turned  his  pencil 
to  whatever  would  afford  him  training  and  whatever 
would  bring  him  honest  returns.  He  was  ready  to 
do  all  sorts  of  ''odds  and  ends"  of  illustration.  He 
had  great  facility  in  producing  puzzles  of  every  de- 
scription, especially  those  depending  on  illustration. 
One  entire  notebook  is  filled  with  suggestions  for 
riddles,  puzzles,  rebuses,  anagrams,  which  he  worked 
out  or  had  in  reserve. 

The  days  were  full  of  hope  and  determination.  He 
had  no  doubts  about  his  ultimate  success.  He  was  a 
firm  believer  in  himself.  And  he  knew  he  had  found 
the  work  he  loved  and  into  which  he  could  throw  his 
whole  abounding  life.  It  is  a  fine  picture  of  a  brave 
young  fellow  facing  a  difficult  career  with  the  buoyant 
hopes  of  youth  and  the  confidence  of  a  really  strong 
nature.  He  was  only  nineteen  when  he  wrote  to  the 
young  girl  to  whom  he  had  already  given  his  heart: 
"This  work  perfectly  fascinates  me.  It  has  always 
been  my  choice;  it  always  will  be.  I  shall  never  be 
happy  if  I  have  to  abandon  it.  I  look  forward  to  it 
with  delight  and  enthusiasm.  .  .  .  I  do  not  allow 
myself  to  be  too  sanguine.  I  expect  difficulties,  trials, 
disappointments.  I  am  willing  to  work,  use  all  my 
energy,  brave  all  manner  of  disappointments  if  in  the 
end  that  future  which  we  so  often  picture  to  one  an- 
other can  be  realized." 


32          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Another  letter,  a  few  months  later,  tells  the  story  of 
hard  work  and  increasing  care,  in  apology  for  delay 
in  writing  to  his  mother.  It  also  introduces  the  mat- 
ter of  one  of  his  largest  commissions  up  to  this  time, 
and  shows  how  certainly  he  was  making  his  way: 

"  Mother,  I  think  of  you  just  as  much  as  ever,  but  I 
am  so  busy  that  when  evening  comes  my  natural  dis- 
like to  letter  writing  is  increased  tenfold  by  fatigue. 
I  wish  I  could  give  some  correct  idea  of  the  amount 
of  work  that  I  do,  and  of  how  continually  I  am  occu- 
pied. I  am  dreadfully  busy,  and  last  week  and  week 
before  I  worked  at  the  office  evening  after  evening 
until  nearly  eight,  very  seldom  leaving  before  seven. 
You  may  perhaps  form  some  idea  when  I  tell  you  that 
I  have  got  work  on  hand  now  (all  in  a  hurry,  as  fast 
as  I  can  do  it)  amounting  to  over  $1,000.00  (one 
thousand  dollars).  It  is  all  from  Appleton  &  Co.  and 
$840.00  of  it  is  in  one  commission.  It  consists  of 
twelve  drawings  on  stone,  each  stone  measuring 
nearly  four  feet  by  three,  and  weighing  about  four 
hundred  pounds.  I  agreed  to  do  the  drawings  on 
each  stone  for  $70.00  which  amounts  as  above.  I 
have  commenced  and  finished  one  stone  satisfactorily, 
and  commenced  another  to-day.  It  takes  five  men  to 
bring  the  stone  to  my  office  and  it  is  the  largest  size 
that  can  be  used  on  a  power  press.  A  '  tremendous 
job'  people  call  it,  and  don't  see  'how  on  earth  I 
manage  to  get  at  all  these  things.'  I  believe  I  told  you 


Calling  and  Election  33 

something  about  it.  You  remember  that  I  heard  of 
the  intention  of  the  Appletons  to  publish  some  mam- 
moth botanical  charts,  and  as  it  was  rather  in  my  line 
I  went  and  saw  Mr.  Appleton  about  it.  He  asked  me 
if  I  could  draw  on  stone.  I  told  him  '  yes/  as  if  I  had 
done  it  all  my  life,  and  gave  him  my  estimate.  It  was 
an  estimate  calculated  to  pay  me  well,  and  I  felt  sure 
by  previous  inquiry  that  it  was  as  low  as  he  could  get 
it  done  elsewhere.  It  resulted  as  I  expected  and  the 
entire  job  was  turned  over  to  me." 

The  sequel  to  that  story  is  given  in  one  of  his  frank, 
confidential  letters  to  his  mother,  meant  only  for 
her  eye,  and  therefore  full  of  such  a  self-expression  as 
he  would  have  made  to  no  one  else.  It  answers  still 
further  the  question  as  to  how  he  came  to  get  this 
particular  commission  in  a  way  which  reveals  again 
his  boldness  and  faith  in  undertaking  new  and  untried 
work: 

"N.  Y.,  Jan.  22,  1872. 

"MY  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"I  have  stopped  short  in  my  work  for  the  purpose 
of  writing  a  few  lines  to  you,  as  more  time  has  already 
elapsed  since  you  last  heard  from  me  than  I  had  ex- 
pected to  allow.  Everything  goes  on  as  smoothly  as  I 
could  desire;  of  course  there  are  ripples  occasionally 
but  they  only  tend  to  make  the  intervening  success  and 
prosperity  more  serene  by  contrast. 

"I  still  continue  as  busy  as  ever  only  more  so. 

3 


34          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

The  stone  work  is  the  principal  employment,  at  pres- 
ent, and  I  have  given  from  the  start  immense  satis- 
faction. You  remember  that  in  my  last  '  long  letter ' 
I  spoke  of  commencing  on  the  second  [stone  the  fol- 
lowing day.  Well  I  did  so  and  finished  on  the  next 
day  after,  not  spending  quite  two  days  on  it.  That 
week  I  realized  $170.00  for  work  which  I  did  all 
myself.  The  Appletons  were  surprised  more  than  I 
can  tell  you  when  I  informed  them  of  the  completion 
of  the  second  stone,  and  would  scarcely  believe  that  I 
had  done  it  myself.  When  they  came  to  see  the 
proof  they  were  even  more  pleased  than  they  were 
with  the  first.  The  third  stone  was  then  sent  to  my 
office  on  the  next  Saturday  afternoon.  Monday  morn- 
ing following  it  had  not  a  mark  on  it  and  before  I  left 
for  home  that  very  evening  it  was  completely  finished, 
thus  making  $70  in  one  day.  On  the  next  morning  I 
went  up  to  the  Appletons'  and  notified  Mr.  A.  that  his 
third  stone  for  the  charts  was  finished  and  in  a  playful 
way  that  1  wished  he  would  please  send  for  it  and  let 
me  have  the  next.  'Why,'  said  he,  'I  told  them  to 
take  it  to  you  last  Saturday  afternoon.'  'Well,' 
said  I,  'they  did  bring  me  one  last  Saturday  afternoon 
and  that  is  the  one  that  I  have  finished  and  wish  you 
to  take  away.'  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the 
expression  of  mingled  surprise  and  incredulity  which 
covered  his  face.  '  Why,'  said  he,  '  have  you  done  it 
yourself  ? '  '  Yes/  I  returned,  '  I  commenced  it  and  fin- 


Calling  and  Election  35 

ished  it  yesterday. '  He  received  the  intelligence  rather 
with  hesitation  at  first  and  finally  as  I  had  expected, 
took  the  course  of  questioning  whether  there  was  really 
$70.00  worth  of  work  on  them.  He  was  very  coy  in 
his  manner  of  doing  it  but  I  saw  well  enough  through 
it  all.  He  put  such  questions  as  these,  '  Well,  you 
are  doing  them  much  quicker  than  you  expected 
are  n't  you  ?  There  is  not  quite  so  much  work  on 
them  as  you  expected,  is  there  ?  You  thought  at 
first  that  there  would  be  a  week's  time  on  each  stone 
you  remember  ? '  You  see  the  style  of  query  he  used. 
To  all  these  I  admitted  that  they  had  become  much 
more  easy  for  me  than  I  had  expected,  that  I  was  hurry- 
ing them  up  because  I  knew  that  they  were  in  a  great 
hurry  for  the  work.  I  reminded  them  that  my  esti- 
mate was  the  lowest  that  they  could  obtain  in  the  city 
and  said  if  I  had  the  faculty  of  working  fast  that  I 
ought  to  be  remunerated  for  it,  etc.  'But,'  said  he, 
'  there  is  quite  a  wide  difference  between  a  week  and 
a  day  and  it  seems  that  you  did  the  last  one  in  a 
day.'  'Well,'  said  I,  'so  I  did,  but  I  will  spend  a 
week  at  them  hereafter.'  This  made  him  laugh 
heartily,  and  he  drew  me  a  check  for  $70.00  on  the 
spot  and  told  me  that  he  was  glad  I  was  doing  them 
so  fast  and  that  the  firm  were  more  than  pleased, 
thinking  my  work  far  ahead  of  the  original,  etc.  The 
fourth  stone  I  finished  this  Monday  having  com- 
menced it  on  Saturday  last.  It  has  been  taken  away 


36          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

this  morning  ;  the  fifth  one  is  now  on  my  desk 
ready  for  me  to  proceed.  It  is  a  beautiful  surface  to 
draw  upon,  and  I  enjoy  the  work  very  much.  I  cer- 
tainly have  the  faculty  of  drawing  very  fast.  Several 
artists  have  seen  my  drawings  on  the  stone  and 
several  lithographers  also,  and  they  all  tell  me  frankly 
(after  they  have  been  really  convinced  that  I  have 
drawn  one  in  a  day  or  even  two  days)  that  there  is 
not  another  man  in  the  city  that  could  do  it  and  no 
one  that  could  do  it  better.  The  most  reasonable  time 
which  the  Appletons  could  find  elsewhere  was  a 
week  and  this  amongst  lithographers  who  had  drawn 
upon  stone  all  their  lives.  The  printers  of  my  litho- 
graphic work  say  that  they  never  printed  neater  work 
in  their  lives  and  that  my  drawings  all  print  very 
brightly." 

It  was  about  these  days  that  he  made  his  first  orig- 
inal work,  a  little  composition  now  treasured  and  care- 
fully preserved.  He  wrote  about  it  to  his  mother  : 

"Week  before  last  I  took  to  Mr.  Bunce  a  little  bit 
of  sunset  effect  in  the  form  of  a  sketch  which  I  did 
in  fifteen  minutes,  in  India  ink  and  white.  Beard 
admired  it  ever  so  much,  and  just  for  fun  I  took  it 
to  Bunce  as  a  sort  of  specimen  of ' original  design.'  To 
my  surprise  he  admired  it  so  much  that  he  gave  me 
a  block,  and  told  me  to  put  it  on  the  wood  by  all 
means,  for  the  'Journal.'  It  is  very  simple  in  compo- 
sition, being  drawn  in  a  circle  with  the  foreground 


The  Road  to  Hide-and-Seek  Town 

First  Composition,  1873 


Calling  and  Election  37 

open.  On  the  right  is  a  hillside  with  a  few  tall  trees; 
on  the  left  another  slope,  more  distant.  The  extreme 
distance  is  composed  of  a  village  with  church-spire, 
trees,  etc.,  standing  out  against  a  brilliant  sunset  sky 
which  shows  through  the  trees.  In  the  extreme  fore- 
ground is  a  traveler,  or  farmer,  wending  his  way 
homeward;  his  figure  is  almost  a  silhouette  and  his 
shadow  is  cast  upon  the  road.  It  is  my  first  attempt 
at  a  design.  My  head  is  'chuck  full  of  them,'  but  I 
cannot  get  a  chance  to  use  them  I  am  so  busy." 

Other  letters  covering  this  period  are  full  of  interest. 
They  show  the  heart  of  the  young  fellow,  his  frank 
delight  in  his  own  success,  and  in  the  approval  which 
his  work  begins  to  receive.  He  was  much  elated 
over  the  success  of  an  engraving  he  made  for  the 
"Aldine": 

"  NEW  YORK,  Feb.  2,  1872. 

"DEAR  MOTHER: 

"  I  have  just  a  few  moments'  spare  time  which  I  will 
improve  by  writing  a  short  letter  or  note  to  you. 

"Concerning  my  picture,  all  the  artists  of  the  estab- 
lishment admired  the  effect  and  recognized  the  '  excel- 
lent copy*  of  Inness'  style  and  handling.  They  all 
seem  to  think  that  the  picture  is  rather  unnatural  in  its 
intensity  but  that  the  effect  is  wonderful.  Well,  it 
was  yesterday  that  I  brought  it  over.  I  had  cut  it  out 
of  the  paper  on  which  I  drew  it  and  pasted  it  neatly 
on  a  large  piece  of  white  stiff  photograph  board.  Its 


38          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

appearance  was  thus  greatly  improved,  as  it  had  a 
margin  of  nearly  six  inches  all  around  it.  At  noon 
time  I  took  the  sketch  down  to  the  'Aldine.'  I  saw 
Mr.  Sutton,  the  proprietor.  He  held  the  sketch  off 
from  him,  looked  at  it  through  his  hand,  and  pro- 
nounced it  magnificent.  I  of  course  told  him  that  it 
was  a  copy.  He  asked  me  if  he  had  not  met  me 
before.  I  told  him  '  yes ' ;  that  one  year  ago  I  came  to 
him  with  my  first  drawings  on  wood,  and  that  he  did 
a  great  deal  to  encourage  me  at  the  time.  He  remem- 
bered me,  remembered  my  little  drawings  and  de- 
scribed both  of  them  to  me — told  me  that  I  had  a 
tremendous  eye  for  color,  and  he  had  noticed  it  when 
I  first  went  to  him.  He  said, '  When  you  were  here 
a  year  ago  I  told  you  to  come  to  me  when  you  began 
to  do  original  work,  did  I  not  ? '  I  answered  yes  and 
told  him  a  little  of  my  experience  since  that  time. 
Well  we  had  a  nice  little  talk  and  it  ended  in  his  giv- 
ing me  a  large  full  page  block  with  the  order  to  put  it 
on  wood  and  he  said  that  I  must  bring  him  some, 
more  sketches.  I  am  to  correct  Inness'  unfinished 
style  and  make  a  more  finished  picture  than  the  origi- 
nal is,  as  a  painting.  When  it  is  done  I  will  probably 
receive  from  50  to  60  dollars  for  it. 

"  I  begin  it  next  week  and  as  I  cannot  give  Roberts' 
time  to  it  and  will  have  to  work  evenings,  will  prob- 
ably not  finish  it  for  two  weeks  or  so." 

In  the  fall  of  this  year  he  had  a  commission  from 


Calling  and  Election  39 

the  Appletons  to  visit  Rhode  Island  on  a  sketching 
tour.  It  was  his  first  attempt  at  anything  of  just  this 
sort,  and  he  was  evidently  nervous  over  his  responsi- 
bilities. But  his  unfailing  courage  served  him  once 
more,  and  his  naive  account  of  the  trip  and  of  the  re- 
ception of  its  fruits  is  preserved  in  a  letter  to  his 
mother: 


"  BROOKLYN,  N.  Y.,  Sept. 

"Mv  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"I  returned  from  my  trip  on  Thursday,  but  did  not 
wish  to  write  you  immediately  as  I  hoped  to  be  able 
to  send  you  more  encouraging  news  by  waiting  a  day 
or  so.  Many  were  the  disadvantages  which  I  labored 
under  during  all  the  time  while  I  was  away,  being  al- 
most sick  constantly.  Nevertheless  I  worked  through 
it  all,  hard  and  faithfully,  and  the  result  is  '  a  perfect 
success,'  far  exceeding  my  greatest  anticipations.  It 
was  a  very  important  period  in  my  business  career, 
-and  I  felt  the  necessity  of  working  hard,  and,  truth  to 
say,  I  was  confident  of  success,  but  not  to  any  such 
degree  as  that  with  which  I  have  met. 

"My  commission  included  Providence  and  Suburbs: 
Pawtucket  ;  Providence  Bay  ;  Narragansett  Bay  ; 
Rocky  Point  and  Narragansett  Pier,  all  of  which  I 
visited  and  sketched.  During  the  first  week  I  remained 
at  the  Central  Hotel,  Providence,  where  I  had  quite  a 
pleasant  room.  It  being  the  first  time  of  my  being 


40          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

sent  upon  work  of  this  kind  I  was  ignorant  as  to 
what  would  be  expected  of  me  and  of  course  was 
much  worried  and  anxious,  and  the  one  thing  which 
troubled  me  most  has  been  the  one  of  all  others  which 
has  made  me  so  successful.  Each  day,  (with  my 
camp  seat,  umbrella  and  materials,)  I  would  start  out 
either  on  foot  or  in  the  cars,  traveling  nearly  until 
evening  and  in  no  case  did  I  bring  home  with  me 
more  than  three  sketches,  and  this  number  only  once. 
It  was  this  scarcity  in  my  number  of  sketches  that 
caused  me  to  worry,  but  1  still  felt  that  what  I  had 
got  were  good;  all  through  the  day  would  1  pass  by 
little  bits  of  landscape  that  I  thought  would  compose 
rather  prettily,  but  nevertheless  I  made  up  my  mind 
(as  I  was  not  to  be  gone  long)  to  sketch  only  such 
bits  as  I  knew  would  be  particularly  attractive,  and 
of  course  it  would  take  nearly  the  whole  day  before 
I  could  find  and  sketch  more  than  two.  1  imagined 
that  this  was  a  very  small  number,  but  did  not  see 
how  I  could  do  much  better,  as  it  took  a  great  deal  of 
time  to  walk  about  and  select  the  prettiest  views. 
Well,  I  worked  on  in  this  way  for  the  whole  week, 
and  at  the  end  of  it  I  never  realized  more  happily  the 
fact  that  'seven  times  two  made  fourteen'  and  I 
thought  that  if  I  could  go  home  with  twenty-eight 
sketches  it  would  be  certainly  well  enough  as  far  as 
the  number  was  concerned.  But,  again  I  was  very 
much  in  doubt  as  to  the  merit  of  my  sketches  and  as 


Calling  and  Election  41 

the  other  cause  of  anxiety  was  now  partially  removed, 
this  took  its  place  and  troubled  me.  The  next  cir- 
cumstance took  the  spirits  right  out  of  me  and  made 
me  about  sick.  It  commenced  to  rain  and  kept  it  up 
constantly  until  I  left,  and  it  was  the  meanest,  wetest, 
rain  that  I  ever  knew  of,  and  when  it  did  n't  actually 
rain  it  '  fogged '  and  drizzled  which  was  nastier  yet. 
The  blank  sheet  of  my  drawing  paper  would  have 
been  the  best  sketch  of  landscape  during  those 
days,  as  I  could  see  scarcely  more  than  this  would 
represent.  Even  in  the  rain  I  went  out  and  made  a 
few  sketches  of  places  already  decided  upon  and 
finally  left  Providence  in  disgust,  on  my  way  home 
down  Narragansett  Bay.  1  stopped  over  night  at 
Rocky  Point  where  I  made  two  sketches,  leaving  for 
Newport  on  the  following  day  (Tuesday).  On 
Wednesday  I  went  to  Narragansett  Pier  when  I  also 
made  two  or  three  sketches,  thence  homeward. 

"1  came  home  with  about  twenty-two  sketches. 
All  here  at  the  house  thought  them  beautiful.  Mr. 
Beard  was  perfectly  surprised  at  their  beauty  and  Mr. 
Bunce  at  Appleton's  pronounced  them  one  of  the 
'best  lots  of  sketches  he  has  yet  had 'and  compli- 
mented me  on  my  'perfect  success.'  He  was  very 
much  pleased  indeed,  and  admired  them  all,  and  gave 
vent  to  his  admiration  with  loud  praise;  he  called  old 
and  young  Appleton  and  several  other  gentlemen  to 
see  them,  all  of  whom  pronounced  them  'very  fine.' 


42          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

I  expected  then  that  he  would  look  them  over  and 
select  about  five  of  the  prettiest  for  me  to  put  on  the 
wood.  This  was  the  most  that  I  thought  he  would 
select.  Mr.  Beard,  when  I  asked  him,  said  that  he 
thought  they  would  select  about  five,  as  in  other 
cases  they  had  only  taken  about  that  number  out  of 
an  equivalent  stock  of  sketches.  Judge  of  my  com- 
plete surprise  to  see  him  select  and  count  fifteen  of 
them  saying  that  he  would  have  them  all  drawn  for 
the  'Picturesque  America.'  This  left  only  about 
six  of  the  lot  which  he  did  not  want,  and  he  compli- 
mented me  on  the  choice  of  my  selections,  saying 
'  Generally  a  lot  of  sketches  will  come  in,  and  I  will 
look  them  over  and  reject  two  thirds  of  them,  on 
account  of  the  subjects  not  being  interesting,  the 
artists  sketching  whatever  they  come  across  that  looks 
"pretty "and  not  hunting  for  the  most  interesting 
alone.'  This  is  the  amount  of  what  he  said  to  me 
and  finished  it  up  by  telling  me  that  all  of  mine  were 
of  interest  and  composed  well,  which  was  the  very 
thing  I  studied  for  and  which  most  troubled  me  on 
account  of  the  time  it  took  and  the  consequent  small 
number  of  my  sketches.  Mr.  Bunce  was  perfectly 
delighted,  and  if  I  please  him  as  well  in  my  drawings 
on  the  wood,  he  will  probably  wish  to  send  me  off 
again,  when  I  will  in  all  probability  receive  '$40.00 
per  week  and  expenses.'  He  gave  me  four  large 
blocks  nearly  'full  page'  to  start  on  and  the  rest 


William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Age,  23 


Calling  and  Election  43 

will  come  along  as  fast  as  I  want  them;  and  will 
amount  to  about  $400  worth  of  work.  Besides  this 
I  have  plenty  of  work  from  Filmer,  in  a  hurry, 
another  very  large  job  from  Appleton  (on  stone), 
stacks  of  work  for  Leslie  and  plenty  else  besides, 
scarcely  knowing  where  to  begin.  My  bill  to  D.  App. 
&  Co.  for  my  trip  was  considerably  over  $100,  which 
they  paid  without  a  word  not  even  wishing  an  item. 

"It  does  seem  rather  strange  to  me  that  whatever 
I  undertake  to  do,  always  ends  in  success,  and  in 
unexpected  success.  To  be  sure  it  is  done  by  hard 
work  and  I  do  not  see  why  any  one  cannot  succeed 
who  will  put  their  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  be  ambi- 
tious and  full  of  resolution  to  surmount  all  difficulties. 
So  far  I  have  not  made  a  failure,  and  one  reason  has 
been  that  I  have  not  attempted  a  thing  to  which  I  did 
not  feel  equal.  I  am  thankful  that  I  do  succeed,  and  I 
recognize,  through  all  my  experience  in  business,  and 
in  my  efforts  to  advance,  the  ever  present  help  and 
guidance  of  a  good  and  kind  Providence." 

On  the  29th  of  October,  1873,  he  was  married  to 
Miss  Emma  L.  Blanchard  of  Brooklyn.  The  occasion 
was  made  the  more  interesting  by  the  marriage  of 
his  sister  Juliet,  and  the  double  service  was  performed 
by  Mr.  Beecher.  In  the  following  spring  he  made  a 
sketching  trip  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  making  pictures 
for  "  Picturesque  America."  He  was  now  doing 
good  work  and  receiving  constant  employment.  He 


44          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

says  of  the  Washington  sketches,  especially  having  in 
mind  a  "combination"  which  included  many  of  the 
public  buildings : 

11  BROOKLYN,  Apr.  19,  1874. 

"My  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"  I  am  only  going  to  write  you  a  few  lines  to-night 
(which  by  the  way  has  generally  been  my  expressed 
intention  every  time  I  have  written)  and  for  fear  that 
I  may  possibly  overstep  that  intention  I  have  selected 
a  larger  sheet  of  paper  than  usual,  and  expect  at  least 
to  confine  the  limits  of  my  letter  therein. 

"Mr.  Bunce  was  very  much  pleased  with  my  ren- 
dering of  a  difficult  subject,  and  one  which  had 
worried  him  considerably.  I  took  him  the  drawing 
yesterday,  and  received  another  commission  from 
him,  more  work  for  the 'Picturesque  America.'  My 
drawings  will  already  appear  under  three  heads,  viz. : 
'Providence  and  Suburbs,'  'Connecticut  Shore/  and 
'Washington  and  Mt.  Vernon,'  and  now  there  is  still 
another  to  be  added.  I  am  to  proceed  immediately 
with  Brooklyn  and  Prospect  Park,  and  expect  to  begin 
my  sketching  to-morrow,  of  course  being  paid  as  I 
am  usually,  for  my  time.  The  series  will  not  be  very 
extensive,  probably  a  combination  or  two  with  a  few 
small  separate  pictures.  I  hope  that  this  new  work 
will  not  interfere  with  my  intended  visit  with  you 
during  arbutus  season.  I  will  try  and  manage  so  as 
to  bring  my  work  up  there  for  1  hope  to  spend  three 


Calling  and  Election  45 

or  four  days  with  you.  Be  sure  and  let  us  know 
when  the  arbutus  is  in  bloom." 

In  the  fall  of  1876  Gibson  published  through  James 
Miller  a  book  for  boys,  of  which  a  fuller  word  will  be 
said  later  in  these  pages.  It  bore  the  title,  alluring  to 
any  boy,  "The  Complete  American  Trapper;  or  the 
Tricks  of  Trapping  and  Trap-Making."  It  was  repub- 
lished  by  two  other  firms,  and  still  has  a  market. 

These  were  the  years  of  apprenticeship  and  study. 
The  young  man's  art  class  was  his  own  studio.  His 
course  of  study  was  determined  by  the  business  needs 
of  those  who  employed  him.  His  chief  instructor 
was  himself.  The  years  went  quickly  by.  A  trip  to 
the  Adirondacks  in  1875,  another  to  Philadelphia  to 
sketch  the  Centennial  Exhibition  of  1876  were  the 
chief  incidents  of  the  next  two  years.  The  Phila- 
delphia enterprise  was  under  the  patronage  of  Harper 
Brothers.  For  at  last  he  had  secured  the  approval  he 
had  coveted  so  much,  and  was  able  to  win  his  way 
into  the  publications  of  this  house  on  his  own  merits. 
From  time  to  time  he  had  shown  his  work  to  Mr. 
Parsons,  who  admitted  his  progress  and  acknowledged 
his  growing  promise.  At  last  he  received  an  order  to 
illustrate  an  article  in  conjunction  with  his  friend 
Beard.  Other  work  followed,  and  he  was  a  recog- 
nized contributor  to  the  Harpers'  publications. 

But  the  work  which  probably  made  his  "calling 
and  election  sure  "  was  his  masterly  illustration  of  an 


46          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

article  written  by  Mrs.  Helen  S.  Conant,  entitled 
''Birds  and  Plumage."  Gibson  had  suggested  the 
article,  furnishing  the  idea  and  proposing  as  a  title 
"The  Plumage  of  Fashion."  He  did  not  secure  the 
commission  to  write  the  text:  his  abilities  as  a  writer 
had  not  been  demonstrated,  and  he  himself  was  diffi- 
dent about  them.  But  he  received  the  order  for  six- 
teen illustrations,  into  which  we  may  well  believe  he 
threw  his  whole  strength.  The  initial  design  attracted 
marked  attention  and  drew  out  unstinted  praise.  It 
was  a  full-page  picture  of  a  peacock's  feather.  It 
gave  the  article  instant  success.  The  press  was  en- 
thusiastic in  commending  it.  The  August  number  of 
"Harper's  Magazine"  for  1878  may  be  said  to  have 
marked  a  new  epoch  in  American  illustration;  and 
young  Gibson's  work  led  all  the  rest.  The  reserved 
and  refrigerated  criticism  of  the  "Nation"  was  re- 
laxed almost  to  the  point  of  enthusiasm:  "The 
remarkable  series  of  birds  drawn  on  the  block  by  Mr. 
William  H.  Gibson  is  more  obviously  than  the  imita- 
tions just  mentioned  the  result  of  the  engraver's 
skill  and  unwearied  patience.  The  cut  of  the  peacock 
feather,  for  instance,  which  introduces  the  paper  on 
'Birds  and  Plumage/  must  impress  even  the  unin- 
itiated with  its  rare  and  costly  character,  whether 
regarded  as  a  design  or  as  an  engraving.  Mr.  Gibson 
has  evidently  studied  his  subjects  with  great  care  and 
succeeded  in  portraying  them,  both  in  action  and  in 


Calling  and  Election  47 

repose,  in  a  graceful  and  life-like  manner,  with  in- 
structive accessories."  The  "  Christian  Union,"  always 
careful  and  conservative,  said:  "Upon  this  article, 
which  has  been  a  long  time  in  preparation,  the  pub- 
lishers have,  it  is  understood,  laid  out  an  unprece- 
dentedly  large  sum  of  money.  Certainly  Mr.  Gibson's 
graceful  pencil  has  given  them  the  worth  of  it.  No 
better  work,  it  is  safe  to  say,  has  ever  appeared  in  the 
pages  of  the  magazine." 

But  best  and  most  conclusive  of  all  the  words  of 
praise  which  this  drawing  elicited,  were  those  of  Mr. 
Charles  Eliot  Norton,  in  a  personal  letter  to  the  young 
artist : 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  Nov.  8,  1878. 

"DEAR  SIR:  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
note,  for  it  gives  me  an  opportunity  which  I  have 
desired,  to  express  to  you  my  admiration  of  the  skill 
and  beauty  of  the  design  of  the  peacock's  feather,  so 
excellently  cut  on  wood  by  Mr.  King.  It  is  not 
merely  subtle  and  refined  execution  which  is  shown 
in  the  piece,  but  a  poetic  feeling  for  the  quality  and 
charm  of  the  feather  itself  and  for  its  value  in  compo- 
sition. Your  feather  ought  to  be  as  well  known  as 
Rembrandt's  shell  or  Hollar's  furs.  For  you  and  Mr. 
King  in  your  joint  work  have  succeeded  in  suggesting 
the  splendor,  the  play,  the  concentration  of  color,  the 
bewildering  multiplicity  of  interlacing  curves,  the 
elastic  spring  and  vitality  of  every  fiber,  and  have 


48          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

given  the  immortality  of  art  to  one  of  the  purely  dec- 
orative productions  of  nature.  I  shall  look  for  your 
new  work  with  great  interest. 

"I  am  very  desirous  to  see  a  proof  of  your  feathers 
on  soft  India  paper.  If  I  can  find  some  proper  paper 
here  I  shall  be  tempted  to  send  it  to  you.  But  paper 
suitable  for  such  work  is  not  easily  found." 

All  this  was  said  of  the  youth  who  six  years  before 
had  been  pronounced  without  even  the  promise  of 
ability!  Surely  he  had  a  right  to  be  proud  of  his 
triumph.  He  had  fairly  won  his  spurs.  Henceforth 
there  was  no  doubt  of  his  standing  as  one  of  the  first 
of  American  illustrators. 


"The  Peacock's  Feather  "  ("The  Peerless  Plume  ") 

("Highways  and  Byways") 
Copyright,  1882,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 


CHAPTER  III 

A  QUICK  SUCCESS 

FROM  this  time  forward,  Gibson's  success  as  an 
artist  was  assured.  And  not  very  long  after,  he 
was  induced  to  try  his  hand  at  authorship,  with  results 
quite  as  convincing.  During  the  summer  of  1878  he 
spent  his  vacation,  in  company  with  his  wife,  in  the 
old  homes  at  Newtown  and  at  Washington,  Connecti- 
cut. Returning  to  the  city  in  the  autumn,  and  re- 
counting his  delightful  experiences  to  Mr.  Alden,  the 
editor  of  "Harper's  Magazine,"  the  latter  insisted  that 
Gibson  should  put  them  into  an  article  which  he 
should  also  illustrate.  But  even  with  the  practice 
which  he  had  given  himself,  in  the  brief  articles  he 
had  furnished  with  many  of  his  drawings,  he  dis- 
trusted his  own  capacity  for  literary  work.  He  had  no 
such  innate  sense  of  power  to  write  as  made  him 
so  confident  with  his  pencil.  He  demurred  at  the 
proposition ;  but  Mr.  Alden  was  firm  and  persistent. 
"Write  it  just  as  you  have  told  it  to  me,"  was  his  en- 
couraging word.  His  suggestion  was  followed,  and 
in  the  August  number  of  the  monthly  appeared  an 
affectionate  sketch  of  the  old  boyhood  homes,  under 
the  title,  which  was  but  a  thin  disguise,  "Hometown 


50          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

and  Snug  Hamlet."  It  proved  an  instant  success. 
The  note  struck  was  genuine  and  pleasing.  The  illus- 
trations won  the  public  eye.  The  canny  editor  sug- 
gested a  similar  article  which  should  cover  the  winter 
phases  of  country  life  in  the  same  vein.  It  was  pre- 
pared, and  appeared  in  the  number  for  March,  1880; 
and  had  a  reception  as  enthusiastic  as  his  former  ven- 
ture. The  idea  of  completing  the  cycle  of  the  seasons 
was  inevitable,  and  in  June  there  followed  the  article 
on  "Spring-Time,"  which  was  pronounced  "the  most 
attractive  paper "  of  this  number  of  the  magazine, 
whose  "rhythmic  prose"  was  not  less  highly  com- 
mended than  its  illustrations,  which  another  critic 
called  "almost  as  good  as  spring  itself."  In  Novem- 
ber the  series  was  rounded  out  with  "An  Autumn 
Pastoral,"  which  led  a  reviewer  to  say  "Mr.  Gibson 
is  a  great  artist,  and  has  a  great  future  before  him." 

In  1879  he  furnished  illustrations  for  E.  P.  Roe's 
"Success  with  Small  Fruits,"  which  appeared  serially 
in  "  Scribner's  Magazine,"  and  which  opened  the  way  to 
an  intimate  friendship  with  the  author.  He  made  the 
designs  for  the  poems  of  the  Goodale  sisters,  "In 
Berkshire  with  the  Wild-flowers."  But  these  were 
mere  incidents  in  the  work  he  was  turning  off,  for 
half  the  firms  in  New  York  City,  and  on  all  sorts  of 
subjects  having  to  do  with  nature,  with  animal  life, 
with  flowers,  and  with  fruits.  In  the  spring  he  made 
a  visit  to  "Roeland"  to  sketch,  and  he  divided  his 


A  Quick  Success  51 

August  vacation  between  Connecticut  and  the  White 
Mountains,  where  he  gathered  material  for  a  year's 
hard  work.  He  busied  himself,  too,  with  work  in 
water  color,  steadily  keeping  his  ideals  in  mind,  and 
his  own  art-training  in  hand. 

In  the  fall  of  1880,  the  four  papers  which  had  ap- 
peared in  "Harper's  Magazine"  were  collected  and 
published  in  a  sumptuous  volume,  entitled  "Pastoral 
Days."  It  was  a  book  which  yesterday  would  have 
been  called  "epoch-making";  to-day  it  would  only 
be  called  "record-breaking."  The  simple  truth  about 
it  is  that  it  really  touched  the  high-water  mark  in  the 
history  of  nature-illustration  by  means  of  wood-en- 
graving. It  was  everywhere  hailed  as  exhibiting  the 
very  best  work  of  its  kind  ever  achieved.  The  praise 
which  fell  to  Gibson  himself  was  twofold;  for  it  was 
an  enthusiastic  recognition  of  his  talent  both  as  author 
and  as  artist.  His  engravers  were  applauded  for  the 
skill  and  spirit  with  which  they  interpreted  his  de- 
signs. His  publishers  were  commended  for  the  un- 
stinted generosity  which  had  balked  at  no  pains  or 
cost.  Even  the  printer  received  a  curtain-call.  For 
the  "  Evening  Post "  with  great  discrimination  insisted 
that  much  of  the  success  of  the  work  was  due  to 
"another  artist,  whose  name  is  nowhere  given. 
That  artist's  name  is  David  Lewis  and  he  passes  his 
days  in  the  press-room  of  Harper  Brothers,  amid  the 
clatter  of  the  printing-machines,  engaged  in  the  grimy 


52          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

work  of  his  office."  The  "Evening  Mail"  expressed 
the  unanimous  verdict  of  art  circles  when  it  declared: 
"Writers  on  art  spoke  of  the  days  of  Bewick  with  a 
sort  of  despair,  as  though  no  one  like  him  might  ever 
be  expected  again.  It  has  been  reserved  for  the  United 
States  to  show  that  wood  has,  for  the  purposes  of 
engraving,  capacities  of  which  Bewick  never  dreamed, 
and  to  produce  a  school  of  artists  who  in  treating 
landscape,  at  least  upon  wood,  have  surpassed  every- 
thing on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean.  In  the  first 
rank  of  these  artists  stands  Mr.  William  Hamilton  Gib- 
son." The  London  "  Times  "  in  a  long  notice  spoke  of 
his  having  "the  rare  gift  of  feeling  for  the  exquisitely 
graceful  forms  of  plant  life  and  the  fine  touch  of  an 
expert  draughtsman  which  enable  him  to  select  and  to 
draw  with  a  refinement  which  few  artists  in  this  direc- 
tion have  ever  shown. "  Even  the  ' '  Saturday  Review  " 
in  a  notice  a  column  and  a  half  in  length,  confessing 
its  ignorance  of  Mr.  Gibson  and  his  work,  declared 
that  his  drawings  were  so  full  of  delicate  fancy  and 
feeling,  and  his  writing  so  skilful  and  graceful,  that  it 
hoped  "to  hear  more  of  him  soon,  in  either  function 
or  both."  In  hardly  more  than  two  years  from  the 
time  of  his  first  illustrations  Gibson  had  made  his  way 
to  the  very  front  rank  of  the  world's  illustrators.  His 
position  was  truly  of  his  own  achieving;  and  he  never 
fell  back  from  the  eminence  he  had  so  fairly  won. 
His  friend  Mr.  Charles  N.  Hurd  of  the  Boston  "Tran- 


A  Quick  Success  53 

script"  does  the  situation  no  more  than  simple  justice 
in  a  letter  written  upon  reading  the  "Saturday  Re- 
view" article: 

"TRANSCRIPT  OFFICE, 
"  324  WASHINGTON  STREET,  COR.  MILK  STREET, 

"  BOSTON,  May  18,  1881. 

"MY  DEAR  GIBSON  : 

"1  congratulate  you  from  the  very  bottom  of 
my  heart  on  the  magnificent  article  on  '  Pastoral 
Days'  in  the  Saturday  Review,  which,  you  will 
see  by  the  papers  I  send,  I  have  copied  into 
the  Transcript.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
gracefully  done,  and  then,  in  the  Saturday  Review, 
one  of  the  very  hardest  to  please  of  all  the  British 
journals  !  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  they  never  said 
half  so  much  before  of  any  literary  American,  living 
or  dead.  And  there  is  n't  an  'if  in  the  whole  arti- 
cle !  I  feel  as  rejoiced  about  it  as  if  I  had  some 
personal  share  in  the  glory.  If  you  have  n't  a  right 
now  to  carry  your  chin  high  on  Broadway  then 
nobody  in  New  York  has.  I  tell  you,  it's  a  great 
thing  to  be  appreciated  ;  to  get  praise  where  you 
feel  that  it  rests  wholly  and  altogether  upon  the 
merits  of  your  work,  and  has  in  it  no  spark  of  flat- 
tery. I  can  imagine  how  long  the  way  home  seemed 
that  night,  and  how  happy  you  two  were  in  reading 
over  what  the  two-thousand-mile-away  critic  had 
written.  It  is  worth  a  good  many  years'  hard  pulling 
to  have  one  such  day." 


54          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

One  great  and  decisive  reason  why  he  moved  on 
so  steadily  was  his  constant  ambition  to  improve 
upon  what  he  had  done.  One  might  easily  be  mis- 
led by  the  tone  of  his  confidential  letters  to  his 
mother  and  others  into  thinking  him  overconfident 
in  himself,  and  a  little  puffed  up  by  his  quick  and 
overwhelming  success.  But  the  thought  would  be 
absolutely  unfair.  He  was  not  vain  ;  he  was  never 
self-satisfied ;  he  never  rested  in  what  he  had 
achieved.  After  the  rousing  reception  of  "  Pastoral 
Days,"  he  could  write  to  Colonel  Gibson  in  quiet 
Fryeburg :  "I  have  just  finished  the  last  of  my 
White  Mountain  illustrations — four  months'  work — 
and  am  beginning  a  new  series  of  original  articles 
which  shall  'knock  spots'  out  of  all  past  work. 
You  ask  in  a  previous  letter,  'Can  you  beat  "Pas- 
toral Days  "  '  ?  Good  gracious  !  The  book  is  so  full 
of  shortcomings  to  me  that  I  wonder  at  the  astonish- 
ing appreciation  of  it.  There  are  a  few  illustrations 
in  it  that  I  hardly  expect  to  improve  very  much  upon  ; 
but  as  to  the  average  excellence  I  can  'see  it'  and 
'go  a  hundred  better.'  Perhaps  the  result  will  not 
be  as  popular.  Can't  tell.  But  I  can  do  better  work." 
That  was  the  key-note  of  his  life.  To  do  something 
better  next  time  was  the  rule  of  his  endeavor.  To  do 
something  different  each  time,  to  turn  some  new 
page,  follow  some  new  trail,  record  some  new  traits 
of  his  favorite  world,  was  another  characteristic  of 


A  Quick  Success  55 

his  purposes.  And  it  kept  him  from  becoming  repe- 
titious and  tiresome,  as  he  repeatedly  piqued  curiosity 
with  his  novel  enterprises  in  nature-study. 

In  the  late  summer  of  1880  he  spent  six  weeks  in 
sketching  among  the  White  Mountains,  whence  he 
went  to  Williamstown,  Massachusetts,  for  another 
six  weeks  of  rest.  He  came  home  laden  with  sketches 
and  with  photographs,  which  were  at  once  utilized  in 
making  the  illustrations  for  Drake's  "Heart  of  the 
White  Mountains."  He  worked  at  these  with  dili- 
gence, as  we  have  seen,  never  a  day,  apparently, 
passing  without  its  picture  ;  but  it  was  far  into  the 
following  spring  before  the  series  was  finished.  The 
volume  was  issued  in  1881,  but  before  its  appearance 
he  was  well  along  with  the  text  and  the  illustrations 
for  the  new  articles  in  the  magazine,  in  the  same 
vein  as  "Pastoral  Days."  In  expanded  form  they 
were  published  in  the  fall  of  1882  under  the  title 
"Highways  and  Byways."  It  would  have  seemed 
improbable  that  the  reception  given  to  his  first  volume 
could  be  repeated.  Novelty  does  so  much  with 
Americans  to  arouse  enthusiasm,  and  they  are  so 
quick  to  compare  the  later  with  the  former  effort, 
that  it  might  have  been  predicted  that  a  second  vol- 
ume striking  the  same  note  as  Gibson's  first  success 
would  not  be  so  warmly  praised.  But  the  public 
liked  the  note,  and  it  pronounced  the  new  book 
better  than  the  old.  The  press  notices  of  '82  and  '83 


56          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

are  in  the  same  strain  of  unaffected  admiration  and 
delight  as  those  of  two  years  before.  Perhaps  he 
had  most  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  approval  the 
new  book  won  from  the  staid  London  "Academy" 
and  from  Mr.  Philip  Gilbert  Hamerton's  "Portfolio." 
The  former,  though  a  little  late  in  discovering  him 
was  ingenious  in  its  sweeping  approval.  "  Fancy  to 
yourself"  said  the  "Academy,"  "a  Thoreau  who  has 
read  both  Darwin  and  Ruskin,  and  who  has  learned 
to  use  the  pencil  of  Birket  Foster.  To  this  add  the 
finest  workmanship  of  the  American  school  of  wood- 
engraving,  and  all  the  luxury  of  the  richest  paper  and 
the  clearest  type,  and  you  may  form  some  idea  of 
the  handsome  book  now  before  us.  At  first  it  at- 
tracted only  by  the  rare  delicacy  of  its  drawings, 
which  reproduce  with  unrivaled  truth  the  exquisite 
tracery  of  vegetation,  and  the  'ebon  and  ivory'  of 
Nature's  shadows.  But  when  we  discovered  that 
the  artist  is  also  the  author,  we  began  to  read  ;  and 
we  found  ourselves  unable  to  stop  till  we  got  to  the 
end."  "We  feel  that  we  have  here  far  more  than  in 
most  American  books,  a  genuine  product  of  the 
soil."  Mr.  Hamerton  credits  the  new  book  with  "a 
love  of  nature  that  is  Wordsworthian  in  its  reverence, 
the  close  and  patient  observation  of  an  artist,  the 
peculiar  humor  of  a  genial  American  in  the  study  of 
men  and  things."  To  such  expressions  as  these,  Mr. 
George  William  Curtis,  voicing  the  sentiment  of  his 


A  Quick  Success  57 

own  countrymen,  said  of  him  :  "Mr.  William  Ham- 
ilton Gibson's  reputation  as  one  of  the  first  of  modern 
artists  for  wood-engraving,  is  established  and  secure." 
"  It  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  blended  softness,  vigor, 
and  individuality  of  the  art  could  go  further  than  in 
the  illustrations  of  this  choice  volume." 

He  had  found  time  during  the  year  for  no  little  study 
and  work  in  water-color,  and  even  began  to  essay 
painting  in  oils.  Despite  a  long  illness  of  eight 
months  he  contributed  to  several  exhibitions  and 
finished  a  number  of  new  pictures.  His  goal  was 
always  to  be  a  painter.  In  all  the  heat  of  his  en- 
deavor and  the  intoxication  of  his  success  he  never 
forgot  his  ideals,  never  slackened  his  march  toward 
the  highest  art  in  the  most  approved  forms  and 
mediums. 

In  May,  1883,  his  first  child  was  born,  and  he  was 
soon  writing  to  "  Dear  Mother  Gunn,"  in  answer  to 
her  importunate  inquiries,  all  about  the  new-comer. 
"  Hamilton  Gibson  then  is  his  name  I  understand, 
though  not  a  gift  from  me,  but  simply  because  I  have 
not  the  heart  to  refuse  anything  to  my  precious  wife 
just  now.  So  she  has  christened  him  as  above  in 
spite  of  much  foreboding  on  my  part,  as  to  the  proba- 
ble curtailment  of  his  cognomen  among  the  contem- 
poraneous specimens  of  his  genus  in  the  days  which 
will  soon  be  upon  us.  I  have  waited  so  long  for  this 
little  angel  to  come,  that  I  hardly  dare  realize  to  the  full 


58          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

the  happiness  which  has  befallen  me  lest  I  awake  in 
bitterness  to  find  it  all  a  tantalizing  dream.  .  .  .  But 
ere  long  I  suppose  the  reality  will  be  brought  home  to 
me  more  effectually, — a  few  hours'  perambulating  in 
the  '  wee  sma'  hours '  every  night  for  a  week  or  two 
would  dispel  all  doubts  or  fears,  and  place  the  experi- 
ence on  the  basis  of  solid  prosaic  reality.  At  present 
writing,  however,  I  can  truthfully  say,  as  every  ante- 
cedent pa  has  done,  that  he  is  the  best  baby  alive,  quiet, 
absorbent,  and  somnolent  to  a  degree  of  perfection 
which  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  Only  last  night, 
after  taking  his  meal,  (at  least  that  is  what  I  understand 
they  feed  him  on)  he  was  placed  upon  his  pillow  at 
ten  o'clock  and  slept  like  a  chrysalis  till  half-past  five 
this  morning.  During  the  day  to  be  sure  he  is  not 
quiescent  for  quite  so  long  a  period,  as  then  nature 
seems  to  '  abhor  the  vacuum '  more  than  ever." 

The  year  1883  was  devoted  to  the  illustration  of 
E.  P.  Roe's  "Nature's  Serial  Story,"  a  work  into  which 
he  entered  with  heartiness  and  sympathy.  Much 
time,  too,  was  given  to  the  preparation  of  the  "Memo- 
rial "  of  Mr.  Gunn,  a  volume  issued  under  the  direction 
of  an  association  of  his  old  pupils,  commemorative 
of  his  striking  personality  and  of  the  old  days  in  the 
school  at  Washington.  This  book  was  finely  illus- 
trated by  the  hand  of  his  loving  pupil,  who  also 
wrote  the  introduction  which  was  to  have  been  writ- 
ten by  Mr.  Beecher,  whose  death  occurred  while  the 


God's  Miracle 

By  permission  of  the 
Curtis  Publishing  Company 


A  Quick  Success  59 

work  was  in  progress.  The  summer  vacation  was 
spent,  as  usual,  in  hard  work,  the  scene  of  his  labors 
being  in  the  White  Mountains,  at  Lake  George,  end- 
ing with  two  weeks  in  Washington,  where  he  took 
many  photographs  and  made  many  sketches  for  the 
' '  Memorial. "  There  was  much  painting  in  water-color 
for  exhibitions  here  and  there,  with  many  sales  at 
good  prices.  From  time  to  time  in  1885  and  1886  he 
furnished  more  of  the  charming  articles  which  the 
public  had  learned  to  look  for  and  to  love.  "  Harper's 
Magazine"  for  October,  1886,  contained  a  surprise  and 
a  new  delight  to  his  readers  in  the  shape  of  the  famous 
"Back- Yard  Studies,  "in  which  he  challenged  the  belief 
of  the  average  man,  and  even  astonished  himself  with 
the  story  of  the  variety  of  wild-flowers  which  he  found 
growing  in  his  city  yard.  A  friend  had  expressed  a 
longing  to  study  wild  flowers,  but  felt  that  there  was 
no  hope  of  gratifying  herself  as  long  as  she  lived  in  the 
city.  Gibson  advised  her  to  utilize  her  back-yard, 
and  ventured  the  guess  that  he  could  gather  twenty- 
five  different  species  of  plants  in  his  grass-patch,  as 
the  harvest  of  the  seed  sown  by  the  breezes,  the  in- 
sects, and  occasional  birds.  The  next  morning  he 
made  a  count,  and  was  himself  surprised  to  see  his 
" finds"  running  up  to  a  total  of  sixty-four  different 
species.  The  description  of  his  wild  garden  in  these 
sordid  and  unromantic  surroundings  made  him  new 
friends  and  strengthened  his  old  ones  in  the  assurance 


60         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

that  he  would  never  fail  them  in  nature-wisdom  or 
originality  of  vein.  For  he  showed,  as  he  himself  main- 
tained, how  the  back-yard  "may  become  a  means  of 
grace,  and  with  its  welcome,  peaceful  symbols  of  the 
woodside  and  the  hay-field,  the  wood-path,  pasture, 
and  the  farmyard,  serve  to  reawaken  and  console  the 
latent  yearnings  of  our  unfortunate  metropolitan  ex- 
ile." In  the  fall  of  1886  the  new  volume  appeared, 
to  greet  a  larger  public  than  ever,  enthusiastic  in  its 
praise  and  appreciation.  One  of  his  reviewers  linked 
his  name  most  happily  with  some  of  the  favorites  of 
an  earlier  day.  "  At  the  Christmas  season  of  the  last 
generation  there  was  a  general  anticipation  of  a  new 
holiday  book  from  Dickens  and  Thackeray,  and  the 
expectation  was  rewarded  year  after  year.  We  are 
coming  to  cherish  the  same  hope  of  a  Christmas  book 
from  William  Hamilton  Gibson."  With  equal  fitness 
this  writer  assigned  him  that  place  which  the  popular 
consensus  had  now  begun  to  allot  him,  saying,  "Mr. 
Gibson  must  take  his  place,  as  an  acute  and  delightful 
observer  of  nature,  with  Gilbert  White,  and  Henry 
Thoreau,  and  John  Burroughs."  His  niche  was  se- 
cure, his  right  to  it  now  unquestioned  ;  and  all  quali- 
fied judges  saw  that  he  had  in  himself  a  quality  quite 
his  own,  a  temperament,  a  gift,  a  qualification  to 
sound  his  own  note  and  deliver  a  fresh  message. 

The  next  months  ensuing  Gibson  spent  in  working 
up  material  for  the  illustration  of  a  series  of  papers 


A  Quick  Success  61 

prepared  by  Mr.  Charles  Dudley  Warner  and  Mrs. 
Rebecca  Harding  Davis,  descriptive  of  life  and  nature 
in  the  South.  In  March,  1886,  he  had  left  New  York 
to  join  Mr.  Warner  in  New  Orleans.  They  made  a 
tour,  two  months  in  length,  covering  Georgia,  Ala- 
bama, and  Louisiana,  in  which  he  took  over  five 
hundred  photographs  and  accumulated  much  material 
in  notes  and  sketches.  A  bright  and  picturesque  let- 
ter to  his  wife  gives  a  fine  reminiscence  of  this  de- 
lightful trip. 

"  NEW  IBERIA,  LA. 
"May  12/86. 

"Mv  DEAR  WIFE: — 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  a  trip  in  the  outlying 
country  to  find  your  two  letters  awaiting  me.  Since 
leaving  New  Orleans  I  have  been  gadding  about  the 
country  north,  east,  south  and  west,  and  am  not  yet 
done.  The  Teche  country  is  mightily  interesting  if 
one  can  only  live  through  it.  The  days  come  and  go 
and  are  filled  with  enjoyment,  but  as  to  the  night  no 
man  knoweth  what  may  be  in  store  for  him.  My 
hotel  experiences  would  interest  you,  but  I  cannot 
write  them.  I  left  New  Orleans  with  a  Mr.  William 
King  as  a  companion,  a  young  man  who  knows  the 
country  thoroughly  and  whose  company  Mr.  Warner 
recommended  I  should  request,  as  Warner  was 
obliged  to  leave  for  the  north.  By  the  time  we 
reach  New  Orleans  again  about  five  days  hence, 


62          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

we  shall  have  traveled  together  over  one  thousand 
miles  of  the  Teche  and  other  Louisiana  territory.  The 
weather  has  been  charming,  no  hot  weather  which 
has  not  been  deliciously  tempered  by  the  never  fail- 
ing breeze  from  the  gulf.  Cool  breezy  nights. 

"We  have  driven  for  a  whole  day  over  a  prairie 
peopled  with  all  sorts  of  wild  things  in  the  way  of 
birds.  Meadow  larks,  plover,  snipe,  white  and  blue 
herons,  buzzards,  egrets,  many  birds  so  tame  that 
they  could  easily  be  killed  by  a  cut  of  my  whip.  We 
drove  through  acres  and  acres  of  blue  flag  in  blossom, 
and  for  miles  pursued  the  shaded  roads  through 
dense  woods  draped  in  the  ever-present  festoons  of 
moss — in  this  country  seen  in  its  fullest  perfection, 
every  tree  being  laden  with  it,  hanging  like  heavy  trail- 
ing curtains,  sometimes  twenty  feet  in  length.  The 
effect  in  a  breeze  is  indescribably  beautiful.  The 
Teche  Country  is  the  paradise  of  Louisiana,  and  comes 
as  a  welcome  contrast  to  the  filth  and  squalor  of  the 
city  of  New  Orleans  with  which  I  was  so  nauseated. 
To-night  we  leave  for  the  Averys'.  We  shall  arrive 
there  to-night  and  I  anticipate  a  fine  time  visiting  Jef- 
ferson's Island  and  making  trips  up  the  various 
bayous.  We  shall  try  to  get  away  from  there 
Friday  evening  in  time  to  get  the  steamer  'Iberia' 
here  by  which  we  shall  return,  through  a  sail  of  about 
300  miles  by  lake,  bayou,  and  Mississippi  River  to  New 
Orleans.  Thereat  I  shall  spend  about  three  days  and 


A  Quick  Success  63 

then  start  for  the  homeward  trip,  stopping  over  at 
Mobile  for  a  day  or  so.  I  will  be  home  about  June  i 
as  I  originally  approximated. 

"Of  course  you  know  that  I  am  anxious  to  be  at 
home  again.  The  only  way  that  1  can  keep  my 
spirits  is  to  throw  my  mind  into  the  work  and  interest 
myself  with  my  surroundings.  In  the  main  my  health 
has  been  good,  in  fact,  excellent,  in  spite  of  starvation 
cookery  and  God-forsaken  hostelries  which  anywhere 
else  under  heaven  would  be  considered  good  material 
for  bonfires  and  their  proprietors  hung. 

"A  beautiful  country  and  full  of  interest,  if,  forsooth, 
one  might  exist  without  a  stomach.  Everything  is 
Creole — Creole  cows,  Creole  milk,  Creole  eggs — even 
the  '  niggers '  are  Creoles,  and  all  speak  French.  My 
limited  vocabulary  of  pure  Parisian  French  has  stood 
a  heavy  drain  and  has  occasionally  precipitated  upon 
my  hearers  consequences  which  I  feared  would  prove 
serious  ; — item — Night  before  last  we  stopped  in  a 
hamlet  of  shanties  and  at  last  found  the  '  Hotel,'  kept 
by  a  talkative,  voluble  French  idiot  and  his  wife.  The 
only  guest  bed  in  the  shebang  I  occupied,  and  Mr. 
King  slept  on  a  mattress  on  the  floor  in  another  room. 
I  was  tired  and  suffering  from  an  attack  of  nervous 
dyspepsia,  from  the  greasy  grub  which  I  had  been 
forced  to  eat  in  the  face  of  starvation  (everything  here 
even  a  boiled  egg  is  taught  to  swim  in  hot  fat,  and  is 
only  rescued  therefrom  by  the  famished  boarder,  who 


64          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

sometimes  is  obliged  to  bolt  it  after  scraping  off  the 
congealed  lard).  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could 
get  to  sleep  on  the  night  in  question,  owing  to  my 
indisposition,  together  with  a  certain  nervous  appre- 
hension as  to  the  census  of  my  immediate  surround- 
ings. I  had  barely  dropped  off  into  a  snooze  when  I 
was  startled  by  the  movement  of  the  window  shutter 
near  my  bed,  when  looking,  I  observed  a  mule  who 
was  making  a  meal  of  a  table-cloth  near  my  bed. 
Once  more  after  lying  awake  an  hour  I  had  be- 
gun to  congratulate  myself  on  prospects  of  slumber, 
when  a  shrill  piercing  note  of  a  mocking-bird  struck 
up  its  piccolo  in  the  dead  of  night,  another  and 
another  joined  in  the  chorus,  and  kept  this  up  for  an 
hour  before  it  dawned  upon  me  that  the  birds  were 
in  cages  on  the  farther  side  of  the  very  partition  of  my 
room.  On  which  discovery  you  may  perhaps  imagine 
how  the  limited  French  vocabulary  at  my  command 
was  exhausted  and  reinforced,  but  to  no  purpose. 
I  raved  and  swore  in  Dutch,  French,  and  Pidgeon 
English  and  was  at  length  compelled  to  yell  my 
colored  servant  (driver,  servant,  and  interpreter)  from 
his  slumbers  and  make  him  translate  a  short  address 
to  the  French  idiot  (who  snorted  in  blissful  sleep  in 
concert  with  his  spouse  in  another  quarter  of  the 
shanty)  to  the  effect  that  the  offending  birds  be  im- 
mediately chucked  out  of  doors,  beheaded,  or 
strangled.  The  shrieking  trio  was  finally  removed 


A  Quick  Success  65 

to  the  rear  but  my  sleep  was  ruined  for  that  night. 
Only  toward  morning  after  dawn  had  just  begun  to 
lighten  the  east  did  I  begin  to  feel  drowsy,  but  at 
this  point  the  '  moqueurs '  were  again  restored  to 
their  original  places  and  I  was  compelled  to  have 
them  again  removed,  and  by  this  time  Monsieur  and 
Madame  were  up  and  about  preparing  our  morning 
'grease'  which  they  seemed  to  be  doing  by  sheer 
force  of  lungs  and  belaboring  of  pans  and  kettles. 

''At  breakfast  I  drank  the  proprietor's  health. 

"'  Monsieur,  votre  sante  !  Votre  hospitalite  est 
magnifique !  Votre  table  est  bien  gre  !  Votre 
moqueur — !  Ah!  Votre  moqueur !  (a  pause  with 
dramatic  enthusiasm,  then  continuing)  vous  procurez 
deux,  trois,  quatre  plus  moqueurs  !  et  votre  hotel  est 
perfection  ! ' 

"This  eloquent  outburst  greatly  amused  the  Madame, 
but  the  old  man  seemed  '  busting '  with  suppressed 
emotion,  which  probably,  had  he  then  been  in  pocket 
for  his  bill,  would  have  shown  some  outward  token. 

"  We  left  this  place  for  the  day  and  after  settling  the 
bill,  we  told  them  that  we  would  leave  our  satchels 
until  we  returned  in  the  evening,  whereupon  'la 
madame'  through  my  interpreter,  asked  me  if  she 
should  prepare  a  meal  for  us  for  evening.  I  asked 
her  in  reply  if  she  would  cook  anything  I  wished,  to 
order.  She  replied  'Oui  !  anything  I  can  get.' 
Whereupon  I  ordered  f  three  moqueurs  on  toast ! ' 


66          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

much  to  her  discomfiture,  and  she  grumbled  to  her- 
self as  she  left  us,  which  grumble  being  translated 
would  signify,  '  My  God  !  three  mocking  birds ! 
that  feast  would  cost  you  thirty  dollars  ! '  " 

The  rest  of  the  year  was  spent  in  working  up  the 
material  thus  gathered,  and  much  of  the  following 
winter  and  spring.  The  summer  of  1887  was  passed 
in  Washington,  Connecticut,  where,  as  a  note  in  his 
journal  tells  us,  he  ''spent  a  very  busy  season. 
Made  many  drawings  for  two  prospective  articles  on 
'Midnight  Rambles'  and  'Insect  Botanists,'  besides 
many  flower-studies  and  a  number  of  water-colors. 
Very  busy  on  the  '  Memorial '  volume  to  Mr.  Gunn. 
Made  a  large  number  of  drawings  for  botany."  The 
last  remark  refers  to  a  large  scheme  which  now 
possessed  his  teeming  brain,  a  plan  to  write  an  il- 
lustrated botany.  He  never  dropped  his  purpose, — 
indeed,  abandoned  plans  were  unknown  in  his  life- 
history, — and  before  his  death  he  had  accumulated 
over  1500  drawings  toward  such  a  work.  There 
have  been  many  such  undertakings  put  forth,  success- 
ful and  valuable.  But  it  is  impossible  to  think 
without  a  pang  of  the  wonderful  work  he  would 
have  made  out  of  his  accurate  knowledge  and  his 
matchless  art  ! 

The  "Memorial"  was  published  in  1887,  and  he 
went  on  with  the  articles  and  the  water-colors,  busy 


A  Quick  Success  67 

all  the  time,  and  always  laying  out  work  in  advance 
of  his  swiftest  execution.  The  spring  of  1 888  brought 
the  opportunity  for  a  trip  to  Europe,  which  included 
a  tour  in  Great  Britain,  France,  Holland,  and  Switzer- 
land, with  a  fortnight  in  London  and  another  in  Paris. 
His  camera  and  his  pencil  were  both  busy,  but  the 
new  experiences  made  only  an  episode  in  his  busy 
life.  He  was  interested  in  all  the  art  he  saw,  and  the 
life  of  the  people  appealed  to  him  there,  as  it  did  at 
home.  A  letter  describing  his  impressions  of  Holland 
shows  the  spirit  in  which  he  traveled  and  the  things 
he  elected  to  see. 

"Since  last  writing  you  I  have  enjoyed  a  week  (or 
more  I  fear)  of  rare  incident  and  experience,  my  days 
being  so  full  and  my  evenings  so  tired  that  I  have 
failed  again  in  my  good  intentions  as  to  frequency  of 
letters. 

"  I  hurried  your  last  letter  into  the  mail  and  am  some- 
what in  doubt  whether  it  reached  the  Queenstown 
post  in  time.  Since  that  writing  we  (which  means  a 
party  of  Van  Ingen,  Willis,  Roberts,  McGrath,  Dun- 
thorne  and  myself)  have  visited  successively  Flushing, 
Rotterdam,  The  Hague,  Dordrecht,  Scheveningen, 
Amsterdam  and  Brussels.  Of  course  our  visit  has 
been  brief  as  the  period  of  time  represented  has  been 
but  four  days.  The  picture  galleries  have  received 
most  of  our  attention  at  these  places,  but  at  Dord- 
recht and  Scheveningen  we  found  the  living  pictures 


68          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

unmatched  by  any  in  the  respective  art  exhibitions. 
Dort  is  a  perfect  treasure  of  a  place,  pictorially  con- 
sidered, and  I  shall  live  in  hopes  of  revisiting  it  in  the 
future  more  at  my  leisure  and  with  an  eye  to  '  ma- 
terial.' You  would  have  been  charmed  with  the 
quaintness  of  this  old  Dutch  village  with  its  Venice- 
like  canals,  its  queer  inhabitants,  its  hundreds  of 
wind-mills  and  picturesque  old  boats.  We  hired  a 
boat  and  guide  and  rowed  for  hours  upon  one  of 
these  meandering  waterways — under  arched  bridges 
beneath  which  we  had  to  stoop;  beneath  overhanging 
balconies  bright  with  flowering  plants  and  with  an 
occasional  saucy  or  coquettish  face  half  disclosed  be- 
tween the  Venetian  blinds  at  the  windows,  occasion- 
ally with  a  giggle  accompaniment  or  a  handkerchief 
manoeuvered  in  a  manner  which  would  have  done 
credit  to  a  French  or  Spanish  coquette.  The  little  Dutch 
'yongen'  or  Deutscher  'pups'  saluted  us  with 
questionable  slang  or  with  stones  or  what-not,  at 
every  private  quay  or  alley-way  opening  on  the  canal 
and  altogether  our  turnout  with  its  noisy  exclamatory 
cargo  was  a  great  center  of  attraction  to  contiguous 
neighborhoods  whose  windows  were  usually  filled 
with  curious  spectators  mostly  on  a  broad  grin  of 
Dutch  proportions  and  typical  comeliness,  and  't  is 
true  occasionally  relieved  by  a  disclosure  which  our 
Scotch  friend  Roberts  assured  us  was  '  bonny '  and 
which  commentary  I  was  pleased  to  verify,  and  which 


A  Quick  Success  69 

moreover  was  the  signal  of  a  chorus  of  '  ah's '  from 
our  bateau  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  West 
Brighton  populace  at  the  '  busting '  of  a  rocket.  Our 
trip  was  occasionally  varied  by  a  landing  at  some 
quaint  quay  or  alley,  and  a  rummaging  visit  to  some 
musty  old  bric-a-brac  den  or  junk  shop.  The  streets 
were  of  the  queerest  in  architecture  and  life — queer 
old  women  with  brass  headgear  and  huge  sabots  or 
wooden  shoes,  and  voices  like  a  fog-horn,  peddling 
their  green  goods,  their  eggs,  milk  or  whatever,  their 
treasures  suspended  from  yokes,  and  borne  with  ap- 
parent pleasure.  I  have  bought  one  of  their  huge 
brass  milk  cans  and  a  few  other  of  their  distinguishing 
paraphernalia  for  our  front  parlor  over  the  mantel — (a 
part  of  the  foregoing  was  penned  late  last  night  but  I 
was  so  utterly  tired  that  I  had  to  quit  in  the  midst  of  a 
sentence  which  I  presume  you  can  detect  by  examina- 
tion). I  am  in  the  same  condition  to-night  (Friday, 
May  25th),  having  spent  seven  mortal  hours  on  my 
feet  in  the  '  Louvre '  to  say  nothing  of  the  exhaus- 
tion which  the  visit  has  brought  to  the  other  end  of 
my  person.  Yesterday  I  was  seven  hours  at  the  Salon, 
viewing  the  miles  of  pictures  and  occasionally  imagin- 
ing myself  in  a  harem  or  in  a  feminine  quarter  of  a 
Turkish  bath  by  mistake.  I  shall  go  again  to-morrow, 
as  I  did  not  see  one  half  of  the  bathers  yesterday  and 
besides  there  are  a  few  landscapes  that  I  want  to  get  a 
peep  at,  if  the  fleshly  charmers  will  only  give  a  fellow 


70         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

half  a  chance.     5000  pictures!!!   to  say  nothing  of 
about  three  acres  of  statuary ! 

"I  shall  spend  a  week  here  at  Paris  and  shall  then 
leave  for  Switzerland,  including  Chamounix,  Inter- 
laken,  Rigi,  Lucerne,  &c.,  returning  after  about  a 
week's  trip  direct  to  London  there  to  spend  the  few 
days  prior  to  my  return.  I  shall  sail  with  Van  Ingen  on 
the  '  Adriatic '  June  I3th  and  shall  be  most  happy  to  be 
with  my  loved  ones  again.  How  truly  do  we  measure 
time  by  voluminousness  of  incident.  Our  Holland  trip 
of  4  days  seemed  like  a  month  and  it  seems  a  half  year 
since  I  left  you  in  New  York.  In  my  hours — say 
rather  moments — of  repose  I  am  homesick  and  my 
tired  feeling  adds  to  the  nostalgia.  Mr.  Van  Ingen 
and  McGrath  left  me  in  my  tracks  to-day,  and  the 
way  I  am  dispensing  my  hybrid  French  to  the  natives 
hereabouts  is  a  case  of  wilful  persecution.  But  I  get 
along  better  than  I  would  have  supposed.  I  have 
raked  up  my  old  vocabulary  and  with  a  reinforcement 
of  grins,  gesticulations  and  shrugs,  it  is  surprising 
how  quickly  my  victim  succumbs.  Once  in  a  while 
it  is  true  I  chance  upon  an  ass  who  don't  catch  on, 
but  as  a  rule  I  manage  to  make  my  patient  compre- 
hend my  intentions.  Everything  thus  goes  well  until 
he  starts  in,  and  the  average  Frenchman  can  pro- 
nounce three  words  at  once  with  most  facile  ease  and 
evident  delight.  I  generally  wait  until  he  has  run 
through  his  dictionary  from  Alfred  to  Omaha  and  then 


A  Quick  Success  71 

inform  him  that  I  have  n't  understood  a  word  that  he 
has  been  saying  and  beg  of  him  to  begin  again  and  go 
slow.  When  he  comprehends  that  he  is  to  be  re- 
munerated by  time,  and  not  by  the  job,  and  turns  out 
words  instead  of  mush,  his  lingo  is  not  half  so  over- 
powering or  so  enigmatical.  I  had  the  honor  to  com- 
pliment a  waiter  to-day  upon  his  excellent  French 
when  indulged  in  moderation,  bringing  a  touching  par- 
able to  my  rescue,  likening  his  'escargot'  speech  to 
my  dish  of  small  isolated  boiled  potatoes  and  his 
'  chemin  du  fer '  French  to  my  '  haricot '  much  to  his 
delight  and  comprehension." 

In  1888  his  second  son  was  born,  and  the  happy 
father  writes  of  the  new  baby  to  Colonel  Gibson,  ex- 
cusing himself  for  not  having  made  him  a  visit:  "I 
have  found  that  we  cannot  always  bend  circumstances 
to  our  wills,  especially  when  those  aforesaid  circum- 
stances are  materialized  in  the  shape  of  bills  payable, 
taxes,  insurance,  houses,  wives  (I  beg  pardon,  wife), 
and  babies  !  Yes,  babies  !  For  Hamilton  Jr.  no 
longer  runs  this  establishment ;  I  enclose  the  counter- 
feit presentment  of  a  successor  of  his  who  makes  us 
all  toe  the  mark,  and  bosses  the  entire  household.  Is 
it  possible  that  his  fame  has  not  reached  your  latitude  ? 
He  has  his  own  way  hereabouts,  and  we  imagined 
that  the  limits  of  New  England  had  at  least  been 
brought  within  earshot  of  his  lungs.  But  he  is  a 
darling,  if  he  does  take  after  his  daddy.  His  name 


72          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

is  Dana  Gibson;  (not  Charles  A.)  but  old  Judge  Dana, 
Richard  Dana,  his  ancestor." 

The  year  1889  found  him  busy  with  the  erection  of 
a  new  story  to  his  Brooklyn  house  and  his  instalment 
there  in  a  studio  which  became  a  favorite  theme  for 
newspaper  gossip  and  description.  In  Washington, 
too,  he  acquired  another  studio  for  his  summer  days, 
in  the  shape  of  a  little  old  schoolhouse  which  was 
familiar  to  him  in  his  boyhood.  In  the  autumn  of  this 
year  he  recorded  the  idea  of  a  "prospective  work 
'Eyes  to  the  Blind'  to  be  prepared  with  a  view  to 
book  publication.  Made  proposition  to  Harpers  who 
requested  me  to  run  the  same  through  the  year  in 
'Young  People,'  one  page  each,  with  about  200 
drawings."  This,  is  of  course,  that  favorite  work 
which  finally  took  the  name  of  "Sharp  Eyes"  and 
attained  such  wide  popularity.  Writing  of  this  new 
scheme  to  his  friend  Colonel  Gibson,  in  Fryeburg, 
Maine,  he  opens  his  mind  and  heart  in  his  own 
direct  and  exuberant  way.  The  letter  was  written 
in  August,  1890. 

"  This  series  will  run  through  the  year,  and  you  may 
like  to  know  how  it  all  came  about.  Know  then  that 
my  head  gradually  got  so  big  with  the  muchness  of 
learning  that  I  had  to  rig  up  a  safety  valve  of  some  sort, 
or  bust !  This  would  have  been  an  unpleasant  denoue- 
ment for  myself  and  especially  tough  on  the  immediate 
surroundings,  human  or  otherwise,  and  so  I  hit  upon  a 


A  Quick  Success  73 

plan  to  put  all  my  goods  in  the  show  window  and  get 
credit  for  a  big  reinforcement  behind  the  counter ! 
Great  scheme  !  eh  !  (that  is  if  they  only  won't  try  to  get 
a  look  inside  !)  My  note-books,  visible  and  intangible, 
have  been  multiplying  from  year  to  year  with  no  avail- 
able opportunities  of  keeping  pace  with  them  in  my 
accustomed  magazine  facilities.  So  I  concluded  to  ma- 
terialize my  material  in  the  form  of  a  dainty  book,  com- 
prising the  more  interesting  incidents  of  my  journal, 
arranging  the  incidents  or  episodes  chronologically — a 
timely  item  or  two  for  each  week  in  the  year,  so  that 
the  book  might  serve  as  a  sort  of  pictorial  reference 
calendar  for  the  saunterer,  affording  him  at  least  some 
few  hints  of  the  rich  store  of  wonders  which  surround 
him  unheeded  in  every  field  and  by  every  path.  I 
believe  there  is  real  true  missionary  possibility  in  such 
a  book  as  that.  My  plan  completed  and  a  little  ma- 
terial duly  prepared  I  broached  the  matter  to  the 
Harpers.  They  jumped  at  it  at  once,  and  much  to  my 
astonishment  made  me  the  offer  to  run  it  for  the  entire 
year  of  52  weeks  in  the  'Young  People,'  an  unheard 
of  thing  !  and  something  which  I  had  never  dreamed 
of.  By  this  arrangement  I  not  only  received  much 
more  liberal  compensation  for  the  large  number  of  de- 
signs than  would  have  been  financially  possible  on 
the  first  basis,  but  in  addition  realized  generously 
upon  the  letter  press  which  in  the  original  plan  would 
have  been  furnished  gratis  on  the  customary  plan  of 


74         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

books  paying  royalty.  In  addition  to  this,  inasmuch 
as  the  cost  of  the  entire  series  would  of  course  be 
charged  to  the  'Y.  P.'  it  gave  me  a  bigger  margin 
both  in  number  and  scope  of  the  designs,  so  that  the 
book  as  now  shaped  will  be  more  generously  illustrated 
than  as  first  planned.  The  series  will  end  with  the 
Xmas  number  and  will  then  begin  to  take  its  book 
form  with  numerous  fresh  additions  of  tail-pieces  and 
other  morceaux,  comprising  some  300  illustrations.  It 
will  not  be  issued  however  until  the  Christmas  of 
1891  as  I  have  already  on  the  press  a  volume  for  the 
coming  season. 

"  The  title  of  this— my  fifth  book— is  '  Strolls  by  Star- 
light and  Sunshine.'  My  two  midnight  articles  taking 
the  lead,  and  followed  by  my  other  magazine  papers 
published  during  the  last  two  years.  'Bird-Notes,' 
(Harper's),  'Bird-Cradles,'  (Scribner's),  'Prehistoric 
Botanists,'  (Century),  and  'Wild  Garden/  (Harper's), 
this  September  (now  due). 

"You  shall  see  the  volume  as  soon  as  you  are  likely 
to  desire  it,  and  whether  you  take  any  stock  in  it  or 
not  you  will,  I  hope,  give  me  credit  of  being  a  well 
meaning  fellow  anyhow. 

"There  !  that's  about  as  big  a  dose  as  even  your 
friendship  can  stand,  and  so  I  '11  come  around  to  my 
autograph  and  give  you  a  rest — No — not  yet  either  !  I 
wonder  if  you  can't  do  me  a  little  favor,  just  for  the 
sake  of  old  times  and  in  spite  of  my  sins.  In  addition 


A  Quick  Success  75 

to  all  my  other  work  I  have  been  for  years  preparing 
a  botany  on  a  new  plan,  and  nearly  all  the  bloomin' 
things  that  grow  in  these  parts  have  been  victimized 
in  my  enthusiasm. 

''There  is  one  plant,  perhaps  two,  which  I  re- 
member to  have  seen  and  gathered  on  the  sand  at 
Lovell's  pond,  but  which  I  never  identified,  which 
perhaps  you  could  now  help  me  to  secure.  A  little 
low  thing  with  a  few  yellow  (or  pink)  blossoms  grow- 
ing on  its  extremity,  and  which  I  saw  in  profusion  the 
last  time  I  visited  the  spot  with  you.  I  am  afraid  that 
the  season  is  too  late,  or  will  be  when  I  could  receive 
them  from  you,  but  if  you  can,  after  about  twelve 
days,  or  rather  about  the  date  of  the  third  of  September 
gather  the  plants  for  me,  enclose  them  in  a  tin  spice  box, 
no  water,  and  mail  them  to  me  here  at  Washington, 
Conn.,  you  will  earn  my  thanks  anew.  Plants  en- 
closed in  tin  boxes,  with  air-tight  covers,  will  keep 
fresh  for  days — indeed  for  many  days  longer  than  the 
same  plant  would  keep  in  a  vase  of  water. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  friend,  au  revoir  !  I  sincerely 
wish  that  we  might  meet  again  if  only  to  clasp  hands 
and  exchange  greeting,  but  until  another  year  at  least 
it  seems  improbable.  To-morrow  I  leave  to  visit 
friends  in  the  Adirondacks  for  two  weeks  returning 
here  to  keep  my  nose  to  the  grindstone  until  Novem- 
ber when  I  return  to  Brooklyn, 

"Good  bye,  regards  to  all.     W.  H.  G." 


76          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

In  season  for  the  holidays  in  1890  "  Strolls  by  Star- 
light and  Sunshine "  was  ready  ;  and  Gibson  had 
another  surprise  for  the  nature-lovers  in  the  chapters 
on  "A  Midnight  Ramble,"  and  " Night  Witchery." 
All  he  had  done  was  to  take  his  lantern  and  wander 
among  the  grasses  and  the  wild-flowers  as  they  slept, 
and  to  tell  the  story  of  what  he  saw  and  heard.  But 
when  he  had  done  with  them,  his  readers  all  felt,  at 
second-hand,  indeed,  but  keenly  enough,  as  he  him- 
self had  done,  "We  have  explored  a  new  world — a 
realm  which  we  can  look  in  the  face  on  the  morrow, 
with  an  exchange  of  recognition  impossible  yesterday." 
Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  suggesting  possible  choice 
of  material  for  the  "Library  of  American  Literature," 
said  of  this  article,  "  I  scarcely  believe  that  you  or  any 
one  has  of  late  written  anything  more  novel  or  more 
poetic  than  your  espionage  in  the  camp  of  the  flowers 
at  midnight." 

All  the  next  year  was  devoted  to  work  upon  "  Sharp 
Eyes,"  which  appeared  in  the  late  autumn  of  1891. 
The  intent  and  scope  of  the  book  has  been  told  in  the 
author's  letter  to  his  friend.  He  puts  his  purpose  suc- 
cinctly in  a  paragraph  of  the  introduction,  which  he 
quaintly  entitled  "  Through  My  Spectacles  "  :  "  '  Sharp 
Eyes,'  then,  is,  in  brief,  a  cordial  recommendation  and 
invitation  to  walk  the  fields  and  woods  with  me  and 
reap  the  perpetual  harvest  of  a  quiet  eye,  which  Nature 
everywhere  bestows  ;  to  witness  with  me  the  strange 


A  Quick  Success  77 

revelations  of  this  wild  bal  masqut,  to  laugh,  to  admire, 
to  study,  to  ponder,  to  philosophize, — between  the 
lines, — to  question,  and  always  to  rejoice  and  give 
thanks." 

Meantime,  he  was  hard  at  work  pushing  the  studies 
for  his  botany.  With  the  sketches  he  was  making  for 
this  purpose,  he  was  also  making  more  water-colors, 
sending  them  to  the  various  exhibitions,  and  arranging 
sales  of  his  own.  He  was  at  work  on  new  articles  for 
the  "Young  People"  continuing  the  unexhausted  vein 
he  had  opened  for  these  pages.  For  older  readers  he 
was  beginning  the  articles  on  the  cross-fertilization  of 
flowers  which  foreshadowed  the  wonderful  charts  and 
lectures  with  which  he  delighted  and  informed  the 
whole  country.  He  had  begun  to  lecture  too,  and 
he  notes  in  his  journal,  July  23,  1891,  "At  Mrs.  Van 
Ingen's  suggestion,  I  have  concluded  to  give  a  series 
of  ten  familiar  talks  on  Nature,  covering  botany,  en- 
tomology, and  ornithology,  two  each  week."  This 
was  the  beginning  of  successive  series  of  lectures, 
covering  four  years.  From  these  home  talks  his  work 
in  this  field  grew  and  multiplied.  Soon  he  was  lec- 
turing with  these  amazing  charts  before  the  clubs  in 
New  York,  before  colleges  and  schools,  and  finally 
before  popular  audiences.  In  the  winter  of  1893-94, 
he  made  the  venture  of  a  series  of  six  lectures  in  Hard- 
man  Hall,  New  York  City,  which  netted  him  the  hand- 
some sum  of  eight  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  drew 


78         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

from  the  veteran  manager,  Major  Pond,  an  expression 
of  wonder :  "The  news  of  your  success  in  Hardman 
Hall  is  phenomenal.  I  can  assure  you  that  you  are 
the  only  man  in  the  United  States  who  could  have 
done  such  a  business." 

Then  the  calls  began  to  come  from  all  over  the 
country.  The  same  energy,  industry,  and  genius 
which  he  had  put  into  his  painting  and  his  writing 
he  threw  with  increasing  intensity  into  this  new  work. 
In  1894  he  lectured  sixty-four  times.  His  success  in 
the  new  field  was  instant  and  complete.  It  was  as 
thoroughgoing  with  scientific  folk  as  it  was  with  the 
children  and  the  plain  people.  The  press  had  nothing 
but  wonder  and  commendations.  It  was  an  epoch  in 
the  popular  presentation  of  scientific  fact  and  research 
unequaled  since  the  days  of  Agassiz. 

But  somehow,  in  the  midst  of  this  new  interest 
and  the  engagements  it  brought,  he  found  the  time 
to  bring  out  still  another  book,  as  novel  and  as 
fascinating  as  any  of  its  predecessors  ;  and  though  it 
dealt  with  what  at  first  sight  seemed  an  unlovely 
theme,  it  was  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  his 
volumes.  Promptly  on  calendar  time  in  1895  came 
" Our  Edible  Mushrooms  and  Toadstoods,"  destined 
to  be  the  forerunner  of  a  fungus-literature  growing 
with  every  year.  Its  accuracy  satisfied  the  scientific  ; 
its  information  gratified  the  popular  mind  ;  its  illus- 
trations were  a  joy  to  the  mushroom-hunters.  And 


A  Quick  Success  79 

his  originality  in  treatment  gave  a  hint  to  the  pub- 
lishers which  they  have  been  quick  to  follow  and 
which  they  will  be  sure  to  follow  for  many  a  year  to 
come. 

Two  more  books  were  to  be  added  to  the  list  of 
his  collected  writings,  "Eye  Spy,"  and  "My  Studio 
Neighbors/'  both  volumes  in  the  same  vein  as 
"Sharp  Eyes,"  and  made  up  of  his  magazine  articles. 
But  before  they  were  gathered  between  covers,  he 
had  finished  his  brief  career  and  had  passed  on. 
The  last  entry  in  his  journal  was  made  on  June  12, 
1896,  to  record,  as  did  all  his  brief  notes,  nothing  but 
a  new  item  of  work, — "Lecture,  Holiday  House." 
He  was  already  in  the  grip  of  death.  The  fierce  fires 
of  a  relentless  industry  had  burned  his  forces  to  a 
cinder.  Through  the  summer  days  he  languished 
and  drooped,  yet  would  not  wholly  give  over  work, 
nor  cease  his  planning.  On  the  i6th  of  July,  among 
the  hills  of  Washington,  he  suddenly  died  from 
apoplexy.  His  overtaxed  frame  gave  way,  and,  at 
the  early  age  of  forty-six,  he  slept  the  long  sleep  of 
the  body,  in  the  beautiful  home  he  had  reared  for 
himself,  among  those  dearest  scenes. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  more  fitting  close  to  this  hurried 
sketch  of  his  career  than  a  reference  to  this  beautiful 
home  which  he  made  for  himself  out  of  the  earnings 
of  his  toil,  and  which  seems  to  have  embodied  the 
desires  and  the  noble  purposes  of  his  whole  life.  It 


8o         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

was  natural,  inevitable,  than  he  should  choose  Wash- 
ington as  the  site  of  this  new  hearthstone.  He 
located  it  upon  a  hillside  sloping  to  the  river-valley, 
with  a  long  and  entrancing  outlook  to  distant  southern 
hills.  He  left  the  wild-flowers  to  grow  undisturbed 
upon  his  lawns,  and  the  clumps  of  low  trees  which 
bore  their  crimson  cones  in  August  gave  him  the 
right  to  call  the  new  estate  "The  Sumacs."  Here 
he  planted  his  house,  building  first  of  all  a  story  of 
stones  gathered  from  the  fields  and  old  walls  round- 
about. Then  a  "story-and-a-half,"  to  use  New 
England  phraseology,  a  tasteful  adaptation  of  old 
Yankee  architecture,  with  hip  roof  and  low  studding. 
Broad  piazzas  surrounded  it,  a  great  hall  welcomed 
the  guest,  and  inviting  rooms  with  enticing  prospects 
through  great  windows  gave  a  sense  of  comfortable 
space  within.  To  complete  the  ideal  of  a  home, 
the  great  fireplace  stood  ready  for  the  winter  backlog, 
or  bore  a  screen  of  boughs  in  summer  and  in  autumn. 
How  bitter  the  irony  of  life,  in  that  as  soon  as  he  had 
reared  this  shrine  for  his  domestic  affections,  amid 
scenes  for  which  he  had  been  yearning  all  his  days, 
imprisoned  in  the  city,  among  friends  of  his  boy- 
hood, who  loved  him  as  few  men  are  loved — what 
a  strange  and  baffling  lot  was  his,  to  be  summoned 
from  it  all,  and  from  the  larger  future  which  seemed 
opening  before  his  eager  heart  ! 


fi 


CHAPTER  IV 

WITH   PENCIL   AND   BRUSH 

IT  is  hard  to  say  whether  Gibson  was  first  a  natu- 
ralist and  afterwards  an  artist,  or  first  an  artist 
and  afterwards  a  naturalist.  Art  was  his  mode  of 
expression  ;  but  his  knowledge  of  nature  furnished 
the  material  of  what  he  would  express.  Art  was  his 
speech,  but  nature  was  his  theme.  In  point  of  time 
there  was  no  difference  in  the  development  of  these 
two  sides  of  his  nature.  His  boyhood  passion  seemed 
to  divide  between  studying  nature  and  drawing 
pictures.  He  wrote  of  himself  in  "  Pastoral  Days" 
(p.  66):  "Insect-hunting  had  always  been  a  passion 
with  me.  Large  collections  of  moths  and  butterflies 
had  many  times  accumulated  under  my  hands,  only 
to  meet  destruction  through  boyish  inexperience  ; 
and  even  in  childhood  the  love  for  the  insect  and  the 
passion  for  the  pencil  strove  hard  for  the  ascendency, 
and  were  only  reconciled  by  a  combination  which 
filled  my  sketch-book  with  studies  of  insect  life." 

His  letters  are  equally  full  of  the  nature-subjects  he 
is  treating  and  of  the  ways  in  which  he  is  treating 

6  81 


82         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

them.  But  there  is  no  question  of  the  strong,  irre- 
pressible need  of  his  spirit  which  drove  him  to  self- 
expression  by  pencil  and  brush.  "  I  am  fairly  crazy 
to  get  to  painting,"  he  said  to  a  friend  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  last  summer  of  his  life.  "My  lecture 
course  and  other  business  matters  have  kept  me  from 
using  my  brush  lately,  and  I  long  to  get  my  colors 
and  go  to  work."  That  was  a  remark  which  reveals 
his  whole  life,  his  constant  mood.  Not  only  was 
he  always  anxious  to  be  at  work,  but  he  wanted  to 
be  at  work  with  his  colors.  This  urgency  drove  him 
to  art  as  a  profession.  It  lightened  all  his  busy  years. 
It  ranked  him  by  divine  right  among  the  best  of 
American  artists. 

He  was  a  thorough  artist  in  his  love  of  the  tech- 
nical side  of  his  work.  He  delighted  in  mastery  of 
the  materials  of  art.  He  liked  the  problems  growing 
out  of  them.  He  knew  the  tools  of  his  craft,  and 
never  was  hampered  by  any  uncertainty  as  to  what  he 
could  do  with  the  means  at  his  command.  His  use  of 
pencil  and  brush  began  early,  and  he  soon  knew  the 
possibilities  of  black  and  white  and  water-colors.  He 
was  quick  to  learn  the  special  art  of  drawing  upon 
wood,  for  the  engraver.  He  had  no  fastidious  scru- 
ples against  the  camera,  but  was  swift  to  resort  to 
it  and  learn  its  possibilities  and  make  it  into  a  tool  to 
shape  his  thought.  When  he  turned  to  color  as 
a  medium  of  expression,  he  did  so  with  all  the  en- 


1 


-Stt 

i 


I  i 

a,  it 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  83 

thusiam  of  a  true  believer  in  its  power,  and  a  pur- 
pose to  get  at  all  its  resources.  Although  so  much 
of  his  early  work  was  translated  to  the  world  by  the 
wood-engraver,  yet  when  wood-engraving  began  to 
decline,  and  the  publishers  took  to  process-work,  and 
the  "half-tone"  crowded  out  the  fine,  laborious 
work  of  the  burin,  Gibson  was  not  in  the  least  dis- 
mayed. He  wasted  no  time  or  sentiment  in  mourn- 
ing the  decadent  methods,  but  sought  at  once  to  learn 
the  utmost  what  the  new  methods  would  yield  to 
a  determined  and  artistic  mind.  How  successful  he 
was  is  well  shown  in  that  beautiful  volume  which  won 
such  instant  favor  with  his  later  constituency,  "Sharp 
Eyes."  Its  delicate  half-tones  vie  with  the  wood- 
engraving  in  expressiveness,  in  delicacy,  and  in 
poetic  feeling  ;  and  they  are  a  standing  testimony  to 
the  artist's  versatility  and  technical  energy.  He  was 
never  at  a  loss  for  a  means  of  expression.  The 
rudest  tools  were  converted  to  delicate  and  sufficient 
inplements  in  his  fingers.  There  are  letters  from  him 
describing  some  illustration  of  his  or  some  painting, 
in  which  the  pen  and  ink  with  which  he  wrote  were 
made  to  sketch  his  work  so  vividly  that  one  is 
tempted  to  rate  the  tour-de-force  of  the  written  page 
as  fine  a  show  of  power  as  the  picture  it  illustrated. 

His  work,  moreover,  was  strong  not  only  in  its  mas- 
tery of  the  science  of  expression,  but  by  its  fidelity  to 
the  facts  of  science  in  its  subject-matter.  It  was  a  flat 


84          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

refutation  of  the  doctrine,  so  dear  to  shallow  sentimen- 
talists, that  the  progress  of  science  must  weaken  the 
power  and  circumscribe  the  field  of  art.  There  is  much 
misleading  talk  to  the  effect  that  science  is  filching  from 
the  realm  of  the  imagination,  the  kingdom  where  art 
thrives,  and  by  its  cold  light  is  taking  all  the  glow  and 
loveliness  out  of  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  fancy 
has  been  wont  to  see  its  fairest  visions.  But  almost  any 
one  of  Gibson's  illustrations  of  natural  history,  of  botan- 
ical subjects,  or  of  open-air  life  and  scenery  sufficiently 
refutes  this  theory.  Here  is  a  mind  at  once  faithful  to 
the  scientific  method,  and  free  in  its  artistic  spirit.  Here 
is  the  accuracy  of  the  scientist's  eye  and  the  artist's 
creative  imagination.  Turning  the  pages  of  "Sharp 
Eyes,"  or  indeed  almost  any  of  his  books,  one  knows 
not  which  to  praise  the  more,  his  close  observation  of 
fact  or  his  easy  translation  of  it  into  the  dress  of  fancy. 
One  of  his  critics  said:  "  His  pictures  sometimes  seem 
ideal,  they  are  wrought  with  such  a  light  and  pains- 
taking touch.  Yet  close  analysis  will  show  them  to  be 
almost  photographic  in  their  accuracy."  However 
freely  his  fancy  deals  with  the  facts,  he  never  violates 
their  logic,  nor  misrepresents  their  substance.  Mr.  Roe, 
in  a  letter  to  Gibson  once  told  him :  "  You  understand 
nature,  and  are  capable  of  seeing  her  as  she  exists.  Most 
other  artists  have  conventional  ideas  of  nature.  You  can 
take  an  actual  scene  and  reproduce  it,  while  at  the  same 
time  idealizing  it."  His  methods  are  a  triumphant  ex- 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  85 

ample  of  the  scientific  use  of  the  imagination,  and  of  the 
imaginative  presentation  of  science.  The  most  hardened 
Gradgrinds  of  research  could  find  no  fault  with  his  facts, 
but  were  astonished  and  put  to  confusion  by  his  power 
to  suffuse  reality  with  the  glow  of  a  poetic  fancy. 
One  critic,  writing  in  the  ' '  New  York  Tribune, "  did  say 
of  him,  in  the  tone  of  one  pointing  out  a  limitation, 
"Nimble  and  agile  as  he  was  of  intellect,  he  did  not 
possess  breadth  and  scope  of  judgment,  nor  maintain 
a  deliberate  balance  of  interests."  But  even  this  far- 
fetched comment  did  not  deny  his  fidelity  to  the  facts, 
but  only  claimed  a  tendency  to  give  them  wrong  values ; 
and  moreover  the  critic  was  reckoning  without  a  large 
knowledge  of  his  mind.  He  confuses  Gibson's  busi- 
ness as  an  artist  with  what  his  business  might  have 
been  as  a  mere  naturalist,  and  in  doing  so  makes  the 
common  mistake  of  disparaging  what  is  done  by  show- 
ing that  it  is  not  something  which  was  not  attempted. 
Here,  for  instance,  in  a  chapter  on  "Ballooning 
Seeds,"  Gibson  draws  across  a  page  what  he  calls  a 
"fanciful  eddy,"  wafting  up  a  swarm  of  seeds,  which 
fly  abroad  on  the  autumn  breeze.  Every  form  in  the 
airy  sketch  is  accurate  enough  for  a  text-book,  yet  the 
whole  is  fit  for  the  illustration  of  a  poem.  Again,  in 
"A  Masquerade  of  Stamens,"  his  pencil  leads  down 
the  page  out  of  a  sunny  meadow  a  long  procession 
which,  beginning  in  the  grasses  of  the  foreground, 
develops  into  the  exactly  drawn  forms  of  a  score  of 


86          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

curiously  fashioned  stamens.  The  illustrations  for 
"Queer  Fruits  from  the  Bee's  Basket,"  with  its  dec- 
orated initial,  showing  just  the  right  bee,  investigat- 
ing just  the  right  flower  ;  the  laden  bees  hastening 
from  the  clump  of  bushes  in  the  foreground  to  the 
distant  hives  behind  the  farmhouse  ;  and  finally  the 
sketch  at  the  close,  of  a  group  of  the  odd  forms  of  pol- 
len-dust which  the  microscope  reveals  ; — these  are  all 
examples  of  a  fancy  which  only  serves  to  illumine, 
throw  light  upon,  the  fact,  but  never  to  distort  it  or 
to  pervert  it.  In  this  phase  of  his  work,  Gibson 
carries  the  office  of  the  illustrator  to  its  highest  possible 
point,  and  shows  all  its  dignity  and  power. 

He  did  all  this  in  his  own  way.  No  artist  of  our 
generation  was  more  thoroughly  individual  in  his 
methods  and  in  his  aim.  He  sought  what  his  own 
spirit  loved  and  longed  for.  He  saw  with  no  eyes  but 
his  own.  He  drew  and  painted  after  his  own  fashion. 
His  originality  was  absolute.  He  had  none  of  the 
mannerisms  of  any  man  or  any  school  but  his  own.  He 
asked  no  one  to  tell  him  the  color  of  the  grass,  or  the 
fashion  in  which  he  should  paint  the  clouds.  What  he 
did  was  his  own  work,  what  he  saw  was  his  own 
vision.  What  men  called  his  "  versatility  "  in  the  choice 
of  "mediums"  was  his  quick  sense  of  fitness  and  of 
adaptation.  His  aim  was  never  loyalty  to  a  school, 
adherence  to  a  method,  repetition  of  a  successful  device 
of  technique.  It  was  always,  rather,  fidelity  to  nature, 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  87 

adaptation  of  the  medium  to  the  thing  represented, 
variety  of  method  to  treat  his  various  themes.  If 
his  style  became  characteristic,  it  was  because  he  put  his 
own  strong  mark  on  all  his  work.  It  was  as  much  his 
own  as  his  autograph.  It  was  William  Hamilton 
Gibson  transferred  to  paper  or  canvas. 

Gibson's  success  as  an  artist  was  as  good  for  the 
American  people  as  it  was  for  himself.  It  was  truly 
a  "  popular  "  success.  The  people,  and  a  great  many 
of  them,  secured  it.  For  he  spoke  to  them,  and  they 
made  approving  answer.  It  would  be  hard  to  name 
an  artist  of  his  generation  who  appealed  to  a  larger 
public,  whose  work  in  the  magazines  was  hailed  with 
a  heartier  delight,  whose  name  stood  for  a  more 
definite  pleasure  and  appreciation  than  his.  The  peo- 
ple liked  his  work,  and  they  knew  why  they  liked  it. 
One  of  his  most  discriminating  critics  said  of  him,  in 
1888: 

"Mr.  Gibson's  work  has  been  essentially  demo- 
cratic, that  is,  has  reached  the  many  rather  than  the 
few,  presenting  to  them  studies  of  nature  which 
stand  for  a  great  deal  more  than  mere  descriptive  pic- 
turesqueness,  because,  as  we  have  said  before,  they 
are  informed  not  only  with  the  feeling  for  the  beauti- 
ful, but  also  with  the  scientific  spirit  of  inquiry  and  a 
love  of  exact  truth."  To  gain  such  universal  approval 
without  the  slightest  swerving  from  his  artistic  integ- 
rity, or  any  lowering  of  his  artistic  standard,  was  an 


88          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

immense  triumph.  He  realized  it,  and  it  gave  him 
great  joy.  His  honest  and  ingenuous  pride  in  the  re- 
ception accorded  to  his  early  work  is  well  shown  in 
two  brief  notes  to  his  mother,  one  in  May,  the  other 
in  July,  1878: 

"  The  bird  article  is  finished  and  the  proofs  are  be- 
ginning to  pour  in.  One  or  two  of  them  are  so  fine 
that  their  fame  has  spread  over  the  city,  and  I  am 
besieged  by  engravers  and  artists  to  see  them.  One,  a 
full-sized  peacock's  feather  which  takes  up  a  full  page 
of  the  magazine,  is  by  far  the  most  superb  piece  of 
wood-engraving  that  has  ever  been  accomplished.  It 
is  spoken  of  in  art-circles  all  over  the  city.  It  is  the 
opening  picture,  and  will  create  a  sensation.  The 
illustrations  number  sixteen  in  all,  and  Mr.  Parsons 
told  Mr.  Beard  and  others  that  it  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  at  the  same  time  the  most  expensive  article 
the  magazine  had  ever  gotten  up.  Mr.  Parsons  told 
me  that  the  drawings  not  only  pleased  him,  but  that 
they  exceeded  his  highest  expectations,  and  that  he 
did  not  believe  there  was  another  man  in  this  country 
or  in  any  other  that  could  excel  them." 

In  similar  vein,  after  the  notices  began  to  appear,  he 
wrote  again : 

"BROOKLYN,/**/?  27,  1878. 

"DEAR  MOTHER: — 

"I  send  you  to-day  a  copy  of  the  'Nation'  con- 
taining notice  of  Harper's  Magazine.  The  'Nation' 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  89 

is  a  high  authority  and  has  the  reputation  of  stating 
the  truth.  It  seldom  goes  into  ecstasies  over  anything, 
and  such  a  notice  as  it  has  given  of  my  '  birds '  is  con- 
sidered by  the  Harpers  as  a  magnificent  compliment." 

The  qualities  of  his  art  in  which  the  public  delighted 
and  which  came  to  be  characteristic  of  all  his  work, 
were  refinement,  gracefulness,  and  truth.  He  saw 
the  finer  qualities  of  nature,  sought  out  her  delicate 
beauties,  loved  her  humbler  moods,  objects,  episodes. 
He  vindicated  his  own  taste  in  the  paragraph  with 
which  he  prefaced  the  chapter  on  "Sap  Bewitched," 
over  the  signature  of  "  Plinius  Secundus  " : 

"We  wonder  at  the  mighty  and  monstrous  shoul- 
ders of  Elephants,  we  marvel  at  the  strong  necks  of 
bulls :  we  keep  a  wondering  at  the  ravening  of  tigers, 
and  the  shag  manes  of  Lions :  and  yet  in  comparison  of 
insects  there  is  nothing  wherein  Nature  and  her  whole 
power  is  more  seen,  neither  sheweth  she  her  might 
more  than  in  these  least  creatures  of  all." 

In  the  spirit  of  those  words  he  wrought  at  his  art. 
"These  least  creatures  of  all"  found  in  him  a  loving 
exponent.  He  saw  their  charm,  and  he  was  not 
above  interpreting  it  to  others.  The  web  of  a  spider, 
the  nest  of  a  bird,  the  down  of  the  dandelion,  the  leaf 
of  the  jewel-weed,  the  tangle  of  grasses  in  a  fence- 
corner,  the  vegetable  contents  of  a  city  back-yard, — 
Gibson  found  beauties  in  all  these  least  things,  which 
he  did  not  disdain  to  celebrate.  He  had  learned  from 


90          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Thoreau,  chief  among  American  students  and  exposi- 
tors of  nature,  the  meaning  of  the  proverb,  "Natura 
maxima  in  minimis."  His  devotion  to  the  Concord 
recluse,  and  to  his  methods,  appears  in  his  studies. 
That  discipleship  affected  his  artistic  life.  It  inspired 
him  in  his  choice  of  themes  and  it  drew  his  eyes  still 
closer  to  the  lesser  objects  and  humbler  horizons.  He 
wrote  to  a  friend  in  1888  : 

"There  are  few  authors  whom  I  love  more  than 
Thoreau.  ...  I  have  read  him  with  love  and 
reverence,  and  have  visited  his  haunts  as  sacred 
ground,  and  have  pictured  those  haunts  in  projected 
compositions,  and  yet  hope  to  see  them  realized." 

He  had  no  apologies  whatsoever  for  having  elected 
the  field  of  what  men  call  the  minor  forms  of  life. 
He  knew  there  was  no  such  thing  as  major  and  minor 
in  the  things  of  nature.  One  may  go  in  either 
direction  and  find  infinity.  A  telescope  is  no  more 
effective  than  a  microscope  ;  and  it  begins  to  look  as 
if  the  atoms  would  be  found  as  marvelous  as  the 
universe.  Gibson  repeatedly  preached  this  doctrine. 
In  one  place  he  said  : 

"There  is  often  an  almost  inexhaustible  field  for 
botanic  investigation  even  on  a  single  fallen  tree. 
My  scientific  friend  already  alluded  to  recently  in- 
formed me,  on  his  return  from  an  exploring  tour, 
that  he  had  spent  two  days  most  delightfully  and 
profitably  in  the  study  of  the  yield  of  a  single  dead 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  91 

tree,  and  had  surprised  himself  by  a  discovery  by 
actual  count  of  over  a  hundred  distinct  species  of 
plants  congregated  upon  it.  Plumy  dicentra  clustered 
along  its  length,  graceful  sprays  of  the  frost-flower, 
with  its  little  spire  of  snow  crystals,  rose  up  here  and 
there,  scarlet  berries  of  the  Indian  turnip  glowed 
among  the  leaves,  and,  with  the  crowding  beds  of 
lycopodiums  and  mosses,  its  ferns  and  lichens,  and 
host  of  fungous  growths,  it  became  an  easy  matter 
to  extend  the  list  of  species  into  the  second  hundred. 
It  is  something  worth  remembering  the  next  time  we 
go  into  the  woods." 

Such  study  and  such  affection  made  him  the  guide 
of  a  great  multitude  of  people  in  America,  teaching 
them  of  beauties  and  graces  they  had  never  per- 
ceived for  themselves.  To  him  thousands  of  men 
and  women  were  under  the  deepest  obligation,  be- 
cause he  gave  knowledge  that  in  small  areas  and  in 
close  quarters  one  may  see  great  beauties  and  far- 
reaching  powers  and  forces.  He  taught  by  his 
art  the  greatness  of  the  little,  the  divinity  of  the 
familiar.  He  revealed  the  wonders  of  the  every-day 
world,  the  miracles  of  the  commonplace.  He  seemed 
to  discern,  and  had  the  power  to  show  others,  the 
whole  of  nature  in  her  humblest  parts.  He  was  the 
prophet  of  the  unnoted  and  the  unprized  ;  for  when 
his  appreciative  pencil  had  drawn  them,  they  straight- 
way became  noteworthy,  brilliant,  extraordinary. 


92          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

One  feels  all  the  power  of  this  call  of  his  to  be  the 
apostle  of  the  unconsidered  in  a  bit  of  rhapsody  over 
the  infinite  pictures  hung  along  any  country  road- 
side : 

"See  how  the  cool  gray  rails  are  relieved  against 
that  rich  dark  background  of  dense  olive  juniper,  how 
they  hide  among  the  prickly  foliage  !  Look  at  that 
low-hanging  branch  which  so  exquisitely  conceals 
the  lowest  rail  as  it  emerges  from  its  other  side,  and 
spreads  out  among  the  creeping  briers  that  wreathe 
the  ground  with  their  shining  leaves  of  crimson  and 
deep  bronze  !  Could  any  art  more  daringly  concen- 
trate a  rhapsody  of  color  than  nature  has  here  done 
in  bringing  up  that  gorgeous  spray  of  scarlet  sumach, 
whose  fern-like  pinnate  leaves  are  so  richly  massed 
against  that  background  of  dark  evergreens?  And 
even  in  that  single  branch  see  the  wondrous  gradation 
of  color,  from  purest  green  to  purplish  olive  melt- 
ing into  crimson,  and  then  to  scarlet,  and  through 
orange  into  yellow,  and  all  sustaining  in  its  midst  the 
clustered  cone  of  berries  of  rich  maroon  !  Verily,  it 
were  almost  an  affront  to  sit  down  before  such  a 
shrine  and  attempt  to  match  it  in  material  pigment. 
A  passing  sketch,  perhaps,  that  shall  serve  to  aid  the 
memory  in  the  retirement  of  the  studio,  but  a  careful 
copy,  never!  until  we  can  have  a  tenfold  lease  of 
life,  and  paint  with  sunbeams.  But  there  is  more 
still  in  this  tantalizing  ideal,  for  a  luxuriant  wild  grape- 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  93 

vine,  that  shuts  in  the  fence  near  by,  sends  toward 
us  an  adventurous  branch  that  climbs  the  upright  rail, 
and  festoons  itself  from  fence  to  tree,  and  hangs  its 
luminous  canopy  over  the  crest  of  the  yielding  juni- 
per. Even  from  where  we  stand  we  can  see  the 
pendent  clusters  of  tiny  grapes  clearly  shadowed 
against  the  translucent  golden  screen.  Add  to  all  this 
the  charm  of  life  and  motion,  with  trembling  leaves 
and  branches  bending  in  the  breeze,  with  here  and 
there  a  flitting  shadow  playing  across  the  half 
hidden  rails,  and  where  can  you  find  another  such 
picture,  its  counterpart  in  beauty — where  ?  perhaps 
its  very  neighbor,  for  all  roadside  pictures  are  *  hung 
upon  the  line,'  they  are  all  by  the  same  great  Master, 
and  it  is  often  difficult  to  choose." 

Two  letters  must  serve  as  types  of  hundreds  which 
he  received,  from  every  quarter  of  this  country  and  from 
England — from  California  and  from  Anticosti  Island, 
from  Minnesota  and  from  Georgia.  The  people  loved 
his  work.  It  expressed  things  they  all  had  felt.  It 
revealed  to  them  things  they  had  never  seen.  It  was 
at  once  interpretation  and  disclosure.  They  did  not 
know  how  good  it  was  technically,  but  they  did  realize 
that  it  was  good  art  in  substance  and  in  spirit,  and  from 
grateful  hearts  and  lives  quickened  and  enriched  by 
his  genius  they  wrote  him  their  letters  of  gratitude 
and  recognition.  This  one  is  from  a  Massachusetts 
town: 


94          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"  B ,  MASS.,  Aug.  30,  'po. 

DEAR  MR.  GIBSON  : — 

"Your  exquisite  drawings  and  no  less  delightful 
descriptions  have  been  a  constant  delight  and  inspira- 
tion to  me  for  ten  years.  I  have  often  wanted  to  tell 
you  so,  but  the  fear  that  a  letter  of  thanks  might  seem 
intrusive  has  kept  me  silent.  You  really  must  forgive 
me  for  writing  now,  however,  for  your  'group  of 
pyrolas '  has  a  fascination  quite  irresistible. 

I  resolutely  close  my  Harper  only  to  open  again  for 
one  more  long  lingering  look  at  their  airy  loveliness, 
and  then  of  course  must  follow  another  peep  at  the 
lilies  and  the  goodyera  and  the  dainty  fern  fronds 
which  seem  to  spring  upas  spontaneously  under  your 
pencil's  magic  as  they  do  in  our  fern-filled  woods  of 
B . 

"Do  you  realize  how  much  you  have  added  to  the 
joy  of  pastoral  days,  what  an  enchantment  you  have 
thrown  around  our  highways  and  byways  ? 

"Almost  every  favorite  flower  lives  again  for  me  in 
your  illustrations,  and  many  and  many  a  time  have  I 
been  lifted  up  and  out  of  weariness  or  discouragement 
by  your  pen  or  pencil,  for  your  word  pictures  are  as 
vivid  as  the  others. 

' '  Let  me  thank  you  too  for  your  suggestions.  '  There 
is  a  spiritual  body  and  there  is  a  natural  body/  and  the 
atmosphere  of  the  first  is  always  around  your  work, 
always  full  of  help  for  all  who  can  discern  it. 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  95 

"I  am  not  an  art  connoisseur  and  should  never  dare 
express  my  opinion  'as  one  having  authority/  but  I 
do  love  beauty,  and  some  of  your  beautiful  woodland 
scenes,  some  ferns  or  mosses  or  flowers  or  birds  have 
power  to  give  '  thoughts  that  do  often  lie  too  deep  for 
tears.'  You  reveal  Nature's  very  soul  and  as  a  most 
ardent  worshipper  of  Nature  and  as  a  child  of  the 
Heavenly  Father  whose  thoughts  you  have  so  often 
interpreted,  I  want  to  thank  you. 

"May  you  have  many  long  years  to  continue  making 
the  world  happier,  and  may  you  receive  as  much  sun- 
shine in  your  own  life  as  you  have  given  others. 
"  Yours  most  sincerely, 

"  MARY  SAWYER." 

The  other  letter  is  from  his  pastor  : 


"To  me  you  are  an  interpreter  of  a  word  of  God 
which  is  both  older  and  newer  than  the  one  to  the 
interpretation  of  which  I  have  given  my  life.  You  have 
enabled  a  vaster  congregation  than  any  minister  ever 
speaks  to,  to  see  in  it  a  meaning  before  unseen,  if  not 
unsuspected.  I  am  one  of  your  congregation  and  I  am 
your  debtor  for  lessons,  not  merely  of  beauty,  but  of 
truth  and  purity,  which  cannot  be  put  into  words. 
In  interpreting  Nature  you  bring  us  nearer  to  God  and 
the  eternal  beauty  and  goodness.  For  this,  no  less 


96          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

than  for  the  autograph  which  hangs  on  our  walls  Mrs. 
Abbott  and  I  heartily  thank  you. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"LYMAN  ABBOTT. 

"  70  COLUMBIA  HEIGHTS, 

"7  April,  1888." 

Gibson  was  a  warm  partisan  of  water-color  as  a 
medium  of  artistic  expression.  He  believed  thoroughly 
in  the  possibilities  of  that  mode  of  painting,  which,  it 
will  be  noted,  was  by  no  means  understood  or  well- 
developed  in  this  country  when  he  was  beginning  to 
paint.  His  views  in  reference  to  it  are  well  set  forth 
in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  describing  his  first  picture 
for  the  Water  Color  Society's  exhibition,  written  in 
the  winter  of  1874.  He  says  : 

"  I  am  at  present  busily  engaged  on  my  water-color 
painting  for  the  coming  Spring  exhibition.  It  is  only 
just  under  way,  but  all  who  have  seen  it  express  much 
pleasure  and  enthusiasm  at  it  and  particularly  admire 
my  selection  of  a  subject.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find 
a  subject  calculated  to  create  such  popular  favor,  and 
you  know  that  a  good  selection  in  this  particular  is 
'half  the  battle.'  The  idea  is  this:  Subject,  a 
'Struggle  for  Life.'  It  is  indicated  by  an  old,  old 
tree  (an  oak  if  you  please)  growing  under  all  possible 
disadvantages,  and  besieged  with  a  host  of  parasitic 
growths  which  threaten  to  sap  its  vitality  and  hasten 
its  death.  The  trunk  and  main  portion  of  a  few 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  97 

branches  only  are  shown  and  but  one  or  two  of  them 
are  possessed  of  any  leafage.  The  near  portion  is  de- 
void of  bark  and  the  exposed  wood,  by  the  action  of 
the  weather  without  and  decay  within,  has  become 
stained  and  broken.  The  interior  is  hollow,  and  the 
rich  brown  debris  of  its  decomposing  wood  falls 
through  a  large  irregular  opening  at  the  base  of  the 
trunk,  and  then  spreading  itself  on  a  moss  and  lichen 
covered  rock  becomes  the  prey  to  brilliantly  colored 
fungi  and  mother  to  many  ferns.  The  tree  is  supposed 
to  have  started  life  near  a  rock  and  in  the  course  of 
time  its  roots  have  grown  over  its  surface  and  again 
by  the  action  of  time  and  other  causes  are  now  bare  of 
bark  and  some  of  them  dead.  Higher  in  the  tree,  an 
unsightly  gaping  hollow  presents  itself,  left  after  the 
fall  of  some  dead  and  useless  limb  and  this,  collecting 
the  rain  water  from  each  successive  shower,  has 
caused  the  gradual  undermining  of  the  tree  and  hur- 
ried it  to  its  approaching  death.  Close  beneath  this 
opening,  true  to  nature,  sapping  what  little  life  blood 
still  circulates  in  the  part  clings  a  luxuriant  clump  of 
the  deadly  agaric  (touch  wood)  which  may  so  often 
be  seen  on  trees  that  have  passed  their  better  days. 
These  are  not  all  the  burdens  under  which  this  aged 
subject  is  struggling.  The  mistletoe  has  fastened  it- 
self upon  its  only  living  branch,  and  parasitic  vines 
innumerable  clamber  up  and  surround  the  trunk  in 
their  '  deadly  embrace. '  A  brightly  colored  woodpecker 

7 


98          William  Hamilton  Gibson 

has  just  alighted  on  the  dying  tree  and  finds  food 
in  plenty  in  the  substance  of  decay.  The  whole 
picture  is  intended  to  suggest  the  idea  of  a  struggle, 
and  I  know  that  I  can  make  it  so  plain  that  anyone 
will  realize  my  intention.  A  little  pool  of  rain  water 
lies  at  the  foot  of  the  rock  and  touching  the  roots 
which  will  give  an  additional  effect  of  reflection,  and 
what  with  this,  the  warm  coloring  of  dried  fallen 
leaves  relieved  by  a  group  of  delicate  ferns,  and  other 
like  growths,  together  with  a  strong  play  of  sunlight 
on  the  whole,  I  see  no  reason  why  the  picture  should 
not  be  a  good  success  and  feel  equal  to  rendering  all 
that  my  imagination  suggests  and  pictures.  I  have 
only  just  commenced,  but  enough  is  even  now  sug- 
gested to  insure  an  at  least  attractive  result.  I  have 
selected  the  medium  of  water-color  because  I  believe 
that  more  can  be  done  with  that  than  most  people  are 
aware.  I  can  work  faster  with  water-color  and 
secure  just  as  brilliant  effect  as  I  could  in  oils.  People 
in  general  do  not  know  how  much  can  be  done  with 
water-color,  and  I  hope  that  I  may  live  to  show  them." 
Six  years  later,  coming  back  to  the  same  subject  in 
a  letter  to  Colonel  Gibson,  he  defends  water-color  as  a 
medium  in  the  following  hearty  fashion: 

"Concerning  the  'water-color'  subject,  on  which 
you  say  '  Of  course  water-color  painting  is  not  or 
cannot  be  high  art,  because  it  concerns  itself  too  much 
with  detail*  (not  verbatim  but  embodying  your  ex- 


The  Struggle  for  Life 

First  Watercolor 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  99 

pressed  idea),  I  regret  that  a  man  in  your  position 
should  decline  from  the  standard  to  which  his  name- 
sake had  elevated  him,  and  come  down  to  such  a 
statement  as  that.  Color  is  color,  whether  it  is  mixed 
with  water  or  oil,  and  you  can  make  a  broad  flat  tint 
in  oil-color  or  water-color  just  as  you  choose.  There 
is  no  reason  why  one  should  use  '  one-hair  brushes ' 
in  water-color  painting  either.  Neither  is  there  any 
reason  why  he  should  paint  more  detail  in  the  one 
than  in  the  other.  You  should  have  had  one  glimpse 
of  the  last  W.  C.  Ex.  It  would  have  made  you  open 
your  eyes.  I  never  saw  stronger  or  broader  pictures 
in  oil  than  some  that  were  in  that  exhibit.  Neither 
does  the  medium  make  a  snap  of  difference,  excepting 
so  far  as  it  cramps  the  hand  that  wields  it.  The  talk 
about  '  body  color '  is  a  '  hobby  horse  '  for  art  critics 
to  ride  on  when  they  get  '  run  out '  of  their  vocabu- 
lary. I  use  both,  so  do  several  others,  some  to  such 
an  excess  as  to  abuse  it  and  spoil  the  result.  It  should 
not  be  used  to  tell  as  paint,  but  to  express  texture  or 
relief  in  an  object  where  such  qualities  are  important 
requisites." 

His  own  work  in  this  medium  showed  the  same 
steady  and  constant  improvement  as  his  work  with 
the  pencil.  He  toiled  incessantly,  and  with  his  toil 
his  power  and  facility  grew.  Remembering  that  he 
was  self-taught  in  all  his  art-work  ;  that  he  wholly 
lacked  the  training  of  the  schools  ;  that  all  his  studies 


ioo        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

had  to  be  made  in  the  rush  and  under  the  pressure  of 
his  intensely  busy  life  ;  yet  that  all  of  these  studies 
were  good  enough  to  have  a  market  value,  and  to 
take  rank  as  works  of  art,  his  professional  career  is 
indeed  a  marvelous  one.  It  was  soon  apparent  that 
he  was  to  take  his  place  among  the  leading  workers 
in  color,  and  in  an  astonishingly  short  time  he  was 
recognized  as  one  of  the  first  water-colorists  in 
America.  He  brought  the  same  dash  and  fervor  and 
sincerity  to  the  color-box  that  he  bestowed  upon 
monotone.  He  was  as  ambitious  to  excel  in  this  field 
as  in  his  earlier  one.  He  overcame  heavy  odds,  chief 
among  which  was  a  popular  prejudice  that  a  man 
who  does  one  thing  well  cannot  do  anything  else. 
The  public  had  come  to  rank  him  as  a  master  in  illus- 
tration. It  was  not  readily  converted  to  the  notion 
that  he  might  take  as  good  a  position  in  color-work. 
The  critics  talked,  as  critics  will,  in  much  this  strain. 
"He  is  not  a  colorist,"  said  one.  "His  best  work  is 
in  monotone,"  said  another.  "He  has  won  more  ad- 
mirers by  his  black-and-white  work  than  he  ever  will 
win  as  a  water-colorist,"  wrote  a  third.  They  evi- 
dently had  not  heard  the  tale  of  his  early  attempts, 
and  had  not  the  fear  of  his  caricatures  before  them. 
Gibson  lived  to  confute  their  judgment  and  to  prove 
his  power  as  a  colorist.  That  he  had  the  root  of  the 
matter  in  him,  and  that  he  was  qualified  by  tempera- 
ment to  see  and  feel  the  power  of  nature's  glowing 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  101 

hues  he  shows  in  a  few  lines  of  revelation,  written 
out  of  his  inmost  spirit. 

"How  many  beautiful  pictures  have  I  seen  emerge 
from  a  cloud  of  dust  upon  a  country  road  !  How 
many  of  those  pictures  have  again  been  half  obliterated 
by  the  dust  of  after-years,  only  to  be  recalled  to  life 
by  even  so  trivial  a  thing  as  the  bleating  of  a  lamb, 
the  ring  of  a  boyish  laugh,  or  the  homely  music  of 
the  falling  pasture  bars  ! 

"  Pity  for  him  whose  heart  knows  no  such  sensitive 
and  latent  chord  of  sympathy  to  yield  its  harmony 
along  the  way,  lending  an  inspiration  to  the  present, 
while  sanctifying  the  past,  and  drawing  from  its 
better  memories  a  renewed  delight  in  living  !  There 
is  no  walk  in  life,  however  dull  or  prosaic,  no  cir- 
cumstance so  commonplace,  that  they  can  stifle  this 
ever-present  melody.  It  sings  in  unison  with  nature 
in  a  thousand  different  keys — in  a  falling  leaf  or  a 
cricket's  song.  The  rain-drops  of  to-day  but  repeat 
the  old-time  patter  on  the  garret-roof.  The  noisy 
katydid,  whenever  heard,  is  that  same  untiring  nightly 
visitant  outside  your  window  to  whose  perpetual 
whim  you  loved  to  listen,  and  in  fancy  tantalize  until 
you  dropped  off  to  sleep  upon  your  pillow.  This 
skimming  swallow  sailing  near  will  never  cross  your 
path  but  so  surely  will  he  fly  to  those  same  old  nests 
beneath  the  barn-yard  eaves.  If  there  is  ever  a 
blessed  mood  'most  musical,  most  melancholy/  it 


102        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

may  be  found  beneath  the  refining  influence  of  just 
such  reminiscences  ;  for  whether  or  not  there  are 
added  elements  of  home  association,  there  are  always 
a  legion  of  indelible  memories  that  love  to  linger 
along  the  country  road  and  lane — highways  and  by- 
ways beloved  of  fancy — paths  of  recollection  filled  with 
footprints  which  not  even  the  tempest  can  obliterate." 

One  rarely  finds  a  profounder  analysis  of  the  true 
mean  between  breadth  and  detail,  between  effect  and 
incident,  nor  a  truer  affirmation  of  one  of  the  neglected 
sources  of  power  in  translating  the  larger  aspects  of 
the  world  than  in  the  following  : 

"  *  There  is  as  much  finish  in  the  right  concealment 
of  things  as  in  the  right  exhibition  of  them/ 

"Here  is  a  key  to  the  very  heart  of  nature,  if  one 
will  only  use  it.  And  I  would  but  add  my  faint  echo 
in  an  entreaty  for  a  deeper  sense  of  the  infinity  of 
nature's  living  tone  and  palpitating  color — a  plea  for 
the  more  intelligent  recognition  of  the  elements  that 
yield  the  tint  which  we  vainly  strive  to  imitate  upon 
the  canvas.  Such  knowledge  will  give  a  voice  to  every 
pigment  on  the  palette,  and  to  the  brush  an  answering 
consciousness  ;  for,  whether  disciple  of  a  school  or  not, 
whether  artist,  poet,  or  layman,  who  can  deny  that 
such  an  attitude  toward  nature  shall  yield  a  harvest  of 
deeper  knowledge,  and  increased  delight,  not  merely 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  footprint,  but  even  as  truly 
in  the  study  of  the  limitless  panorama  ? 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  103 

"  Is  there  not  to  me  an  added  charm  in  the  pink  flush 
that  mantles  the  side  of  yonder  mountain-spur  when  I 
know  so  well  that  it  is  shed  by  the  myriads  of  blossoms 
in  an  acre  of  glowing  fire-weed  ?  And  as  my  eye  fol- 
lows the  cool  cloud-shadow  as  it  glides  down  upon 
the  mountain-slope,  among  the  varied  patchwork  of 
its  fields  and  farms,  is  there  not  a  deepened  significance 
imparted  to  every  separate  tint  that  tells  me  something 
of  its  being  ? 

"  If  in  the  faint  yellow  checkered  forms  I  see  fields  of 
billowing  wheat  and  barley,  and  recall  a  hundred  of 
their  associations,  or  if  from  that  quaintly-dotted  patch 
there  comes  a  whiff  from  a  sweet-scented  field,  with 
its  cocks  of  new-mown  hay,  its  skimming  swallows 
and  ringing  scythes,  with  here  a  luminous  gray  of 
sandy  meadow  fresh  from  the  plough  or  harrow,  and 
there  a  weed-grown  copse  lit  up  with  golden-rod  ;  if 
that  kaleidoscopic  medley  of  grays  and  olives  and 
browns  tells  me  of  its  pastures,  with  their  tinkling  bells, 
of  its  fragrant  beds  of  everlasting,  ferns,  and  hardhack, 
its  trailing  junipers  and  its  moss-flecked  bowlders,  and 
each  of  these  in  turn  draws  me  still  closer,  and  whis- 
pers something  of  itself — the  everlasting  with  its  pen- 
dent jewel,  the  orchis  with  its  little  confidant  and 
nursling,  the  gentian  with  its  close-kept  secret  and  its 
never-opened  eye  ;  if  yonder  bluish  bloom  means  a 
field  of  blueberries  to  me,  and  that  snowy  sweep 
brings  visions  of  the  blossoming  buckwheat  field,  with 


104        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

its  symphony  of  humming  bees — tell  me,  have  I  not 
only  seen  the  mountain-slope,  but  have  I  not  also 
heard  its  voice  ?  " 

Such  a  man  could  not  keep  out  of  the  field  of  color. 
The  feeling  in  him  had  to  express  itself.  He  must 
interpret  on  the  canvas  what  he  saw  upon  the  hillside. 
It  was  inevitable  that  he  should  soon  win  as  hearty 
praise  for  his  color  as  he  had  for  his  drawing.  Of 
course,  the  reputation  could  not  be  as  wide  as  that  he 
had  achieved  as  illustrator  in  black  and  white.  Fewer 
eyes  could  see  his  paintings  than  had  been  regaled 
with  his  illustrations.  But  when  he  laid  down  his 
brush,  to  paint  no  more,  he  had  made  a  name  for  him- 
self as  one  of  the  foremost  American  water-colorists. 

It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  his  later  experiences  taught 
him  a  larger  respect  for  "  oil "  as  a  medium  of  artistic 
expression.  He  was  so  eager  to  enlarge  his  field  of 
work  that  he  could  not  but  venture  upon  experiments 
which  brought  to  him  a  new  sense  of  power  and  a 
knowledge  of  resources  hitherto  untouched.  A  few 
brief  entries  in  his  journal  show  his  state  of  mind,  and 
his  prompt  surrender  of  former  prejudices.  In  March, 
1 88 1,  he  wrote: 

"  Painting  for  three  weeks  on  oil-pictures  for 
Academy  Exhibition.  First  attempts  in  oil  for  exhibi- 
tion. Trouble  with  medium.  Final  triumph  of  mind 
over  matter.  Painted  a  week  or  more  on  large  autumn 
study  commenced  at  Williamstown.  Grew  frantic 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  105 

and  in  a  moment  of  frenzy  took  a  piece  of  pasteboard 
and  palette-knife  and  produced  strongest  picture  I  ever 
painted,  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes, — a  revelation 
which  gave  me  confidence.  A  victorious  fight  with 
an  oil-tube  which  had  threatened  to  get  the  better  of 
me." 

A  few  days  later  he  tried  a  similar  study,  with  which 
he  was  even  more  satisfied.  In  another  entry  he  says 
of  this  attempt: 

"Much  pleased  with  effect  of  sky  I  carried  picture 
to  a  finish  by  four  o'clock.  Went  out  and  ordered 
frame  for  it.  A  Diaz  effect, — quite  strong.  What  a 
revelation  to  me  who,  ten  days  ago,  was  disgusted  with 
oil-color  as  a  medium  !  I  am  all  aglow  with  enthu- 
siasm at  finding  another  medium  for  the  expression  of 
my  thoughts  and  feelings." 

From  this  time  forward  he  knew  that  there  were 
still  greater  possibilities  before  him  than  he  had  real- 
ized, and  with  the  knowledge  came  a  fresh  ambition, 
a  stronger  challenge  to  his  artistic  nature. 

The  "smoke-pictures"  which  he  executed  were 
one  more  example  of  his  versatility  and  delight  in  new 
and  daring  methods.  He  did  a  great  many  of  them, 
and  they  attracted  much  attention.  They  were, 
briefly,  black-and-white  pictures  made  by  a  gas  flame 
upon  a  cardboard  or  paper  ground.  In  his  first  ex- 
periments he  held  the  paper  before  a  horizontal  flame 
and  by  passing  one  part  after  another  across  the  flame, 


io6        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

secured  masses  of  lamp-black,  which  he  found  he 
could  manipulate  to  great  advantage.  Landscape, 
cloud-effects,  deep  shadows  of  night  or  storm  were 
easily  within  reach.  Afterward  he  attached  a  rubber 
tube  to  his  gas-fixture,  and  with  a  suitable  nozzle  was 
able  to  sit  at  his  easel  and  manipulate  the  pipe  as  he 
would  a  brush.  After  the  paper  was  well  coated 
with  varying  shades  of  gray  and  black,  he  would  work 
up  the  picture  with  brush  or  finger  or  palette-knife, 
deepening  the  tones,  when  desirable,  by  more  smoke, 
lightening  them  by  scraping  and  rubbing.  The  total 
effect  was  broad,  yet  marked  by  gradations  so  fine  as 
to  be  almost  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary  methods  of 
black-and-white  work;  while  the  rich,  velvety  tex- 
tures were  of  a  depth  quite  remarkable.  Though  he 
never  devised  any  method  of  " fixing"  the  smoke, 
yet  after  the  lapse  of  a  dozen  years,  these  pictures, 
when  preserved  under  glass,  have  kept  all  their 
original  brilliancy  and  force. 

But  all  that  Gibson  had  done  in  his  artistic  career 
was  to  him  only  an  apprenticeship.  He  meant  more 
than  he  achieved.  He  was  on  the  way  to  better 
things,  when  death  stayed  his  feet.  With  all  his  tre- 
mendous intensity,  his  restless  industry,  his  fulness  of 
conception  and  scheme,  he  was  yet  a  man  of  un- 
dreamed-of patience.  He  saw  far  ahead  of  what  he 
had  reached,  and  planned  for  it,  and  meant  to  attain  it. 
He  himself  regarded  all  that  he  had  done  in  black  and 


With  Pencil  and  Brush  107 

white,  in  water-color,  even  his  beginnings  in  oil,  as 
only  the  preparation  for  a  larger,  stronger  art,  in  which 
he  should  interpret  the  spiritual  side  of  Nature.  There 
was  always  before  his  mind  a  dream  of  the  subtler 
phases  of  natural  beauty,  the  deeper  meaning  she  con- 
veys to  the  listening  soul.  He  was  feeling,  with  more 
and  more  force  every  day  that  he  lived,  the  spell  of 

"  The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration  and  the  poet's  dream," 

and  the  passion  grew  within  him  to  paint,  in  the  most 
permanent  and  adequate  medium,  the  things  he  was 
coming  to  feel  and  to  see.  Art  was  really  his  goal. 
Painting  was  his  crowning  ambition.  His  own  view 
of  his  life  was  that  he  had  but  just  fitted  himself  for  a 
worthier  task,  that  he  was  just  ready  to  begin  the 
work  to  which  he  was  called. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   OPEN   EYE 

WE  have  seen  how  the  passion  for  the  study  of 
nature  was  born  with  Gibson,  and  grew 
with  his  growth.  He  was  a  naturalist  by  nature  ; 
and  all  his  training  strengthened  in  him  the  passion 
which  made  the  young  boy,  with  a  "Cecropia"  in 
sight,  "feel  like  an  eagle  darting  at  her  prey."  The 
natural  world  was  to  him  a  perpetual  attraction,  a  land 
to  be  explored,  a  mystery  to  be  searched,  a  delight  to 
be  enjoyed.  The  frontispiece  to  his  chapter  "  Across 
Lots  "in  "  Highways  and  Byways  "  represents  an  up- 
land shrubby  pasture,  beyond  whose  limits  gleam  the 
waters  of  a  pord,  backed  by  a  round-topped  hill.  In 
the  foreground  stretches  a  rail  fence,  with  a  gateway 
whose  bars  are  dropped;  and  this  open  pathway  to  the 
wild  fields  and  waters  he  has  suggestively  entitled 
"An  Invitation."  That  invitation  was  continually 
pressing  upon  him.  He  always  felt  it,  outweighing 
all  other  calls,  summoning  him  from  every  other 
career,  bidding  him  take  to  the  fields  and  the  woods 
and  the  hills,  to  listen,  to  see,  to  learn,  and  to  impart. 
In  1867,  when  he  was  a  boy  of  seventeen,  convalescing 
from  a  severe  illness,  he  wrote  to  a  dear  friend : 

108 


14  Cypripedium  Acaule" 

.("My  Studio  Neighbors") 
Copyright,  1807,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 


The  Open  Eye  109 

"  You  ask  me  what  I  do  all  day.  This  question  is 
very  easily  answered.  It  is  the  same  thing  over  and 
over  again  day  after  day.  The  great  part  of  the  time 
I  spend  in  the  woods,  alone.  I  start  off  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  ramble  through  the  woods 
and  thickets.  There  is  one  spot  in  particular  which  I 
frequent  the  most,  because  there  are  two  wood- 
thrushes  which  invariably  come  and  sing  to  me. 
This  spot  is  a  singular  little  dell.  It  is  situated  in 
front  of  a  precipice  two  hundred  feet  high,  in  among 
ferns  and  large  rocks  which  are  shaded  by  hemlock 
trees.  It  is  on  these  trees  that  the  wood-thrushes  sit 
and  chant  their  songs  by  the  hour.  Oh,  I  do  not  be- 
lieve I  could  be  happy  if  this  pleasure  were  taken 
away  from  me.  I  am  always  happy  alone  in  the 
woods.  I  dare  say  I  am  destined  to  spend  half  my 
life  in  just  such  places.  This  is  the  daily  program  of 
the  way  I  spend  my  time.  Silly  is  n't  it  ?  But  I 
can 't  help  it.  It  is  my  nature  to  enjoy  nature,  and 
I  mean  to  do  it  at  every  opportunity."  That  outburst 
struck  the  keynote  of  Gibson's  life  and  spirit. 

But  his  love  of  nature,  like  his  knowledge  of  it, 
was  broad  and  catholic.  He  was  not  a  specialist  in 
any  narrow  or  pedantic  sense.  He  was  botanist, 
ornithologist,  entomologist,  biologist,  all  in  one.  A 
butterfly  had  as  much  interest  for  him  as  an  evening- 
primrose,  a  chipmunk  as  a  nuthatch.  Everything 
was  grist  that  came  to  his  mill.  Nothing  could 


no        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

better  illustrate  this  universal  love  of  all  living  things, 
than  a  note  which  he  left,  on  which  he  intended 
evidently  to  base  a  sketch.  Imperfect  as  it  is,  it  is  an 
admirable  illustration  of  his  method  and  of  his  broad 
sympathy  and  interest.  He  begins  with  several  ex- 
periments at  a  title,  and  then  outlines  his  plan  ;  after 
which  he  enumerates  the  "  available  episodes,"  as  he 
calls  them,  to  fill  the  outline: 

"  '  A  Rare  Day  with  the  Speckled  Trout.  Speckled 
Beauties.  A  Rare  Day's  Trouting.'  See  Burroughs's 
'Speckled  Trout/  Prime's  'I  go  a-Fishing,'  Isaak 
Walton. 

"  Begin  :  It  was  the  29th  of  June.  A  glimpse  of  a 
large  platter  of  speckled  trout,  a  one  day's  catch  dis- 
played with  pride  by  a  neighbor,  revived  my  old-time 
zeal  and  reminded  me  that  there  was  but  one  day  left  in 
which  to  beat  the  record.  I  consequently  start  off  fully 
equipped,  and  meet  with  an  interesting  train  of  epi- 
sodes, and  an  accumulation  of  a  basket  of  specimens, — 
plants,  insects,  bird's  nests.  Following  the  course  of 
the  stream,  the  incidents  are  such  as  are  perfectly  ap- 
propriate to  this  setting  and  the  season.  A  trout 
occasionally  alluded  to,  as  an  accessory,  jumping,  etc. 

"  Or  begin  with  quotation  about  '  Not  even  a  minis- 
ter is  to  be  trusted  on  the  subject  of  fish.'  Fish 
stories.  I  have  one  to  tell  which  however  it  may 
compare  with  others  has  at  least  the  merit  of  truth. 
It  is  true  that  I  once  caught  forty-nine  trout,  within 


The  Open  Eye  in 

an  hour  ;  but  that  was  not  a  circumstance  to  the 
fortune  which  has  often  since  befallen  me.  My  last  is 
a  fair  sample  of  these  lucky  days. 

"End  something  in  this  vein, — after  an  enumera- 
tion of  natural  beauties  :  And,  by  the  way,  the  trout  ? 
There  in  the  rippling  pools  ;  for  I  left  them  all  there  ! 
And  yet  there  are  those  who  would  have  followed  my 
trail,  and  have  brought  home  nothing  but  a  basketful 
of  dead  fish.  Finish  with  some  apt  quotation  or 
quaint  proverb,  of  how  one  went  and  brought  back 
chaff,  and  another  fetched  the  kernel." 

It  is  plain  that  such  a  man  as  this  did  not  love 
Nature  for  the  sake  of  the  contribution  she  made  to 
his  particular  sport  or  his  favorite  study.  He  was 
one  of  that  class  whom  Professor  John  Van  Dyke  has 
in  mind,  in  entitling  a  certain  book  of  his  "Nature  for 
Its  Own  Sake."  He  was  out  after  anything  that 
mother  Nature  vouchsafed  to  put  in  his  way,  and  he 
gathered  up  reverently  whatever  he  found,  as  some- 
thing good  for  him  because  it  came  from  her.  Wit- 
ness a  single  incident  in  which  he  modestly  attributes 
to  fortune  what  was  quite  as  much  due  to  his  own 
habitual  alertness. 

"By  a  fortunate  train  of  weather  conditions  I  was 
once  favored  with  a  phenomenon  by  which  almost  the 
entire  vegetable  bill  of  fare  of  the  winter  birds,  at  least 
in  the  way  of  seeds,  was  spread  out  before  me — 
brought  to  my  feet,  as  it  were. 


ii2        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"  Walking  upon  the  firm  and  polished  snow-crust, 
picking  my  way  along  a  rail-fence  at  the  foot  of  a 
steep,  sloping  pasture,  I  suddenly  aroused  into  flight 
a  flock  of  small  birds  from  behind  the  bulwark  of 
drifts  with  which  the  fence  was  hemmed  in  and 
partially  buried.  So  loud  was  the  united  flutter  of 
their  wings  that  it  at  first  suggested  the  whir  of  a 
partridge,  until  I  saw  it  dissipated  in  the  flock  of 
smaller  fry  above  the  edge  of  the  drift.  They  proved 
to  be,  as  1  remember,  mostly  snowbirds,  white  bunt- 
ings, and  goldfinches,  though  doubtless  the  cedar- 
birds,  winter-wrens,  tree-sparrows,  pine  and  purple 
finches,  were  also  among  them.  Their  noisy  flight 
was  the  signal  for  a  general  alarm  all  along  the  line, 
following  the  fence  for  several  hundred  feet,  each 
zigzag  corner  sending  up  its  winged  bevy  to  perch 
and  twitter  upon  the  upper  rails.  Almost  every  pro- 
jecting beam  showed  its  chirruping  sentinel. 

"Interested  to  discover  the  secret  of  such  a  great 
feathery  convocation,  I  crept  up  to  the  edge  of  the 
slippery  drift  and  looked  over.  Beyond  the  fence 
rose  the  steep,  white,  glistening  slope  of  the  pasture, 
a  distance  of  a  furlong  or  more,  its  surface  mottled 
with  its  brown  withered  vegetation.  Following  the 
rambling  rails  on  either  side  were  drifts  of  the  most 
fantastic  form,  now  and  then  almost  peering  above 
the  fence  riders,  and  between  them  ran  a  winding 
valley,  in  which  the  old  fence  seemed  to  be- walking 


The  Open  Eye  113 

knee-deep  in  snow.  It  needed  only  a  second  glance 
into  this  hollow,  whence  the  startled  flocks  had  flown, 
to  understand  its  attractiveness  for  the  birds.  Its 
depths  were  fairly  littered  with  the  choicest  kind  of 
allurement.  The  very  cream  of  the  pasture  had  flowed 
into  this  trough.  It  was  the  hopper  which  had  re- 
ceived the  entire  wind-blown  tribute  of  the  weedy 
upland  that  looked  down  upon  it,  and  of  the  over- 
hanging woods  far  up  the  slope.  Here  were  wind- 
rows of  various  seeds  which  had  been  dislodged  from 
the  weeds  and  trees  and  blown  along  the  glassy  snow 
to  be  caught  in  this  convenient  bin.  The  small 
goblet-shaped  hollows  around  the  projecting  grass- 
stems  were  full  to  the  brim  with  their  good  cheer, 
and  the  deeper  vales  and  gullies  were  marked  out 
everywhere  by  their  brown  meandering  lines  of  inter- 
mingled chaff  and  seeds,  often  to  the  depth  of  two 
inches  or  more.  A  happy  valley  and  a  land  of  plenty, 
surely! 

"A  single  handful  of  this  grist  taken  up  at  random 
presented  a  surprising  variety  of  elements,  offering  a 
wide  choice  for  the  most  fastidious  bird  appetite. 
Curious  to  test  this  question  further,  I  followed  the 
fence  for  a  long  distance,  occasionally  sampling  the 
meadow  crumbs,  and  continually  discovering  some 
new  ingredient  of  fruit  or  seed. 

"Even  the  powdery  chaff  which  I  blew  away  in 
order  to  better  reveal  the  larger  morsels,  proved  to  be 


ii4        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

the  fine  seed  of  various  grasses  and  sedges;  while 
among  the  more  conspicuous  which  remained  I  noted 
the  following  considerable  list,  not  to  mention  others 
which  were  then  beyond  my  limited  botanical  knowl- 
edge. The  seeds  of  the  alder,  birch,  hemlock,  rag- 
weed, bur-marigold,  and  wild-carrot,  were,  perhaps, 
the  most  numerous  and  general.  There  was  an  ex- 
clusive colony  of  dried  grapes  assembled  in  one  par- 
ticular corner,  doubtless  laying  their  plans  for  a  future 
arborescent  monopoly  of  the  rails  in  their  vicinity.  I 
found,  also,  numbers  of  larch  seeds,  both  with  and 
without  their  wings.  Stag-horn-sumach,  poison-ivy, 
ash,  and  hop-hornbeam  representatives  were  fre- 
quent, and  one  chaffy  handful,  downy  with  golden- 
rod  and  aster  seeds  was  lit  up  with  a  bright  scarlet 
berry  of  black  alder,  like  a  tiny  live  coal  in  a  bed  of 
ashes.  There  was  an  occasional  withered  poke-berry 
to  be  met  with,  also  fruits  of  sheep-berry,  ampelopsis, 
juniper,  and  hawthorn.  Another  sample  challenged 
my  audacious  familiarity  with  the  fangs  of  a  Cenchrus 
bur — the  spiny  fruit  of  the  hedgehog  grass,  and  still 
another  was  pretty  well  doctored  with  the  poisonous 
seeds  of  stramonium,  or  jimson-weed,  a  line  of  which 
followed  along  the  base  of  a  drift  like  an  open  trail 
fuse  of  blasting  powder  leading  up  to  a  drill  hole  well 
calked  with  chaff.  I  recall  also  a  few  samaras  of  the 
tulip-tree,  some  hazel-nuts,  oats,  foxtail-grass  seed,  as 
well  as  several  other  queer  diminutive  forms  which 


The  Open  Eye  115 

were  unknown  to  me  at  the  time,  and  which  I  cannot 
now  identify  from  memory." 

If  we  were  to  name  the  quality  most  characteristic 
of  his  work  as  a  naturalist,  it  would  be  his  habit  of 
close  and  accurate  observation.  He  saw  more  of  the 
objects  and  incidents  of  the  natural  world  in  a  square 
rod,  than  most  men,  even  fairly  observant,  would  see 
in  a  square  mile.  His  books  are  a  mass  of  evidence  of 
the  minuteness  and  the  accuracy  of  his  observations  ; 
and  his  note-books  tell  with  still  greater  force  the  story 
of  his  patience  and  industry  in  preparing  himself  to 
report  what  he  had  seen.  They  show  that  he  looked 
and  saw  for  himself,  and  that  his  stories  of  plant  and 
insect  life  are  genuine  studies,  at  first  hand.  A  fine 
instance  of  the  personal  observation  and  actual  experi- 
ence which  lay  behind  his  work  is  afforded  in  the  case 
of  the  chapter  upon  the  " Bombardier-Beetle"  in 
"  Sharp  Eyes."  It  is  but  a  brief  sketch,  and  reports 
only  a  curious  performance  on  the  part  of  a  rather 
rare  insect.  But  the  observed  facts  on  which  it  is 
based  are  set  down  in  a  record  almost  as  long  as  the 
sketch  itself,  and  in  a  manner  to  show  the  foundation 
of  close  attention  and  scrutiny  to  which  he  was  con- 
tinually subjecting  the  face  of  the  earth.  He  writes 
under  date  of  September  28th,  at  Williamstown, 
Massachusetts.  The  note  begins  with  a  memorandum 
to  the  effect  that  he  carried  his  camera,  with  four  plates, 
and  that  he  observed  tumble-bugs,  ichneumon  flies, 


n6        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

and  dung  beetles.  "  In  turning  over  a  large  stone,  as 
is  my  habit  in  my  walks,  I  discerned  beneath  it  a  little 
beetle  which  I  at  first  supposed  to  be  the  common 
species,  so  closely  resembling  the  Bombardier  beetle 
of  Europe.  I  had  no  special  desire  to  capture  it,  and 
as  it  escaped  beneath  the  grass  and  debris,  my  atten- 
tion was  arrested  by  a  series  of  queer  detonations, 
which  made  me  suspect  that  some  kind  of  a  toad  lay 
concealed  nearby.  As  I  rummaged  among  the  leaves 
I  heard  the  queer  report  right  at  my  fingers'  ends,  and 
at  the  same  time  noticed  a  tiny  cloud  of  smoke  emerg- 
ing from  the  same  quarter.  The  fact  then  dawned 
upon  me  that  perhaps  I  had  discovered  a  genuine  Bom- 
bardier. A  moment's  search  revealed  the  little  fellow, 
and  he  discharged  his  battery  six  times  or  so.  I  cap- 
tured him.  I  have  not  yet  read  of  this  species  having 
been  discovered  in  America.  And  certainly  the  allied 
species  of  this  country  possess  no  such  detonating 
power.  Before  the  detonation  the  body  of  the  beetle 
would  swell  considerably.  I  kept  the  beetle  and 
several  of  its  allied  species  in  a  box  some  weeks  after- 
ward, and  observed  the  explosion  several  times.  Mrs. 
Gibson  also  heard  it  once  and  distinctly  saw  the  small 
cloud  of  smoke  of  the  volatile  fluid.  About  two  days 
after  the  capture  of  the  Bombardier,  I  espied  a  beetle 
crawling  on  the  floor  of  my  room,  and  thinking  that 
my  pet  had  escaped  I  captured  the  insect.  It  proved 
to  be  another  of  the  same  species,  but  evidently 


The  Open  Eye  117 

of  the  other  sex,  and  it  was  undoubtedly  seeking  for 
its  imprisoned  mate.  There  are  numerous  parallel 
instances  in  my  own  experience,  but  in  this  instance 
it  is  especially  remarkable  that  I  should  find  a  second 
individual  of  a  species  so  rare  in  America  that  I  had 
never  been  able  to  find  one  before  ;  and  although  I 
overturned  at  least  a  thousand  stones  during  my  stay 
in  Williamstown,  I  was  never  able  to  discover  another 
specimen." 

A  few  weeks  earlier  in  the  same  summer,  he  re- 
corded another  incident  which  shows  his  alertness  of 
eye  and  the  success  with  which  it  was  constantly  re- 
warded. He  was  on  a  trip  to  South  Amboy,  to  study 
orchids  in  a  conservatory  there.  He  wrote  : 

"  In  a  ramble  near  the  station  I  found  (as  usual)  ex- 
actly what  I  had  started  out  to  hunt  for,  a  large  patch 
of  milkweed.  This  luck  is  an  every  day  experience 
with  me  and  has  long  since  ceased  to  be  a  surprise. 
Once  let  my  vision  be  set  on  the  qui-vive  for  any  given 
object,  and  I  am  led  to  it  as  by  some  irresistible  intui- 
tion. No  matter  whether  the  object  sought  be  a  four- 
leaved  clover,  a  certain  flower,  a  rare  caterpillar,  a 
gold-bug  or  a  'walking-stick,'  I  am  soon  rewarded. 
I  was  desirous  of  discovering  a  specimen  of  an  insect 
laden  with  pollen  of  milkweed.  In  less  than  ten  min- 
utes I  found  a  large  tract  of  pollen,  in  full  bloom.  In  an 
instant  more  I  detected  a  beautiful  Cetonia  beetle,  nest- 
ling in  a  tuft  of  blossoms.  Soon  there  came  a  small 


n8        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

yellow  hornet,  which  I  captured.  Its  legs  were  fringed 
with  the  pollen-masses.  So  were  the  toes  of  the 
beetle." 

Probably  Gibson  explains  his  own  success  in  a  sen- 
tence or  two  in  one  of  his  own  chapters:  "Anticipa- 
tion is  an  equipment,  the  surest  talisman  to  discovery, 
and  anticipation  may  be  quickened,  either  by  pictorial 
hint  or  previous  experience.  The  retina  must  be  on 
the  alert."  That  certainly  was  true  of  his  own  eye, 
and  the  fact  that  he  was  such  an  enthusiastic  seeker 
accounts  in  large  measure  for  the  fact  that  he  was 
such  a  successful  finder. 

His  notebooks  show  the  broad  scope  of  his  observa- 
tions and  of  his  studies.  They  cover  every  corner  of 
natural  life.  One  day  he  would  go  out  and  bring  back 
material  for  pages  of  memoranda  concerning  the 
chase  of  what  he  believed  to  be  a  hermit  thrush.  On 
another  day  he  makes  an  entry  of  fourteen  varieties  of 
golden-rod  analyzed,  six  kinds  of  aster,  and,  as  he 
adds,  "many  others."  One  page  of  his  notes  gives 
the  results  of  careful  experiments  with  three  dozen 
dandelion  blossoms,  to  determine  how  long  the  flower 
requires  to  pass  from  bud  to  the  state  when  it  floats 
away  in  silvery  down.  Another  passage  records  in 
a  minute  description  his  first  observation  of  the  snap- 
ping of  the  witch-hazel  seeds,  to  which  he  adds  a  list 
of  a  dozen  subjects  for  illustration.  He  counts  the 
number  of  different  plants  he  finds  in  his  city  back- 


The  Open  Eye  119 

yard.  He  sets  down  the  things  seen  in  a  walk 
through  the  Park  with  a  lantern,  from  nine  o'clock  to 
eleven  at  night.  He  notes  that  on  a  certain  June-29th, 
in  the  midst  of  a  heavy  thunder  storm  he  heard  the 
song  of  the  Wilson  thrush  in  the  woods  near  his 
house.  He  makes  liberal  memoranda  of  the  things 
most  touching  his  attention  after  a  fresh  snow-fall. 
He  sets  down  a  list  of  more  than  a  score  of  birds 
whose  song  he  heard  "in  a  continuous  roundel," 
while  sitting  on  his  porch  on  a  quiet  Sunday.  Thoreau 
in  his  hermit  haunts  at  Walden  was  not  more  minute 
and  attentive  in  his^observations  than  this  eager  three- 
fold worker,  hurrying  from  city  to  country  and  back 
to  city  again,  equally  busy  at  sketching,  and  writing, 
and  observing.  There  are  pages  upon  pages  of  his 
notes  which  read  like  the  "Natural  History  of  Sel- 
borne "  in  their  detailed  and  leisurely  narrative  of 
things  seen  and  heard  in  the  fields  and  beside  the 
brooks.  In  these  records  of  his  intermittent  life  in 
the  country  one  never  hears  the  faintest  echo  of  the 
bustling  round  of  the  dweller  in  cities.  He  drops 
all  that  when  he  locks  the  door  of  his  town-house  be- 
hind him.  Once  in  the  open  air  he  is  again  the  free 
and  buoyant  youth,  preoccupied  only  by  the  purposes 
and  the  pursuits  which  belong  to  the  open  air,  the 
meadow,  and  the  wood.  Indeed  it  seems  as  if  his 
early  training  and  experiences,  those  school-days  at 
the  "Gunnery,"  the  passions  there  born,  the  habits 


120        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

there  fostered  and  confirmed,  lay  at  the  basis  of  all  his 
life  afield.  He  himself  somewhere  said:  "To  the 
average  observer,  if  the  eye  is  ever  thus  to  be  a  means 
of  grace,  it  must  store  up  its  harvest  while  hearts  are 
light  and  life  is  new,  when  eyes  are  bright  and  un- 
dimmed.  How  many  a  prisoner  caged  in  city  walls 
is  living  on  the  harvest  stored  in  free,  unburdened 
youth,  which  has  never  been  replenished."  Perhaps 
that  was  true  of  this  observer  so  much  above  the 
"average,"  and  caught  for  half  his  time  in  the  city's 
durance. 

But  even  there  he  proved  again  the  truth  of  Love- 
lace's lines : 

"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage." 

He  made  the  city  rural,  and  told  others  his  secret: 

"How  little  do  we  appreciate  our  opportunities  for 
natural  observation !  Even  under  the  most  apparently 
discouraging  and  commonplace  environment,  what  a 
neglected  harvest !  A  back-yard  city  grass-plot,  for- 
sooth, what  an  invitation !  Yet  there  is  one  interro- 
gation to  which  the  local  naturalist  is  continually 
called  to  respond.  If  perchance  he  dwells  in  Connect- 
icut, how  repeatedly  is  he  asked,  'Don't  you  find 
your  particular  locality  in  Connecticut  a  specially  rich 
field  for  natural  observation  ? '  The  botanist  of  New 
Jersey  or  the  ornithologist  of  Esopus-on-Hudson  is 
expected  to  give  an  affirmative  reply  to  similar  ques- 


-a  i? 


• 


The  Open  Eye  121 

tions  concerning  his  chosen  hunting-grounds,  if,  in- 
deed, he  does  not  avail  himself  of  that  happy  aphorism 
with  which  Gilbert  White  was  wont  to  instruct  his 
questioners  concerning  the  natural-history  harvest  of 
his  beloved  Selborne :  '  That  locality  is  always  richest 
which  is  most  observed.' 

"With  the  possession  of  a  back-yard,  then,  there  is 
still  hope  for  the  most  case-hardened  cit.  Let  the 
quickened  sod  have  its  freedom  of  expression,  and 
the  grasses  and  weeds  a  respite  from  the  sickle. 
Give  the  cold  shoulder  to  the  gardener,  or,  if  need  be, 
confine  his  arts  to  the  fence  border,  and  if  you  would 
repeat  my  experience,  let  the  chrysanthemum  claim 
the  chief  part  of  his  attention.  Twenty-five  varieties 
of  this  plant  bloomed  in  my  borders  last  season,  and 
they  won  my  admiration,  not  less  because  of  their 
beautiful  display  of  color,  which  more  than  once  re- 
lieved itself  against  a  background  of  snow,  than  for 
the  sterling  wisdom  they  had  displayed  in  biding 
their  time  until  the  rival  wildlings  of  my  grass-plot 
had  seen  their  day. 

"  Next  summer  my  square  of  turf  shall  again  con- 
tribute to  my  enjoyment,  yea,  though  I  seed  the 
whole  community  with  thistles,  tares,  and  fleabane, 
and  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  city  ordinances." 

Gibson  was  mindful  of  the  exhortation,  "To  do 
good  and  to  communicate,  forget  not."  He  could  not 
contain  himself,  when  he  knew  so  many  interesting 


122        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

things.  He  was  a  born  teacher,  a  communicator 
and  medium  of  knowledge.  His  studies  all  had 
a  real  if  unconscious  aim.  He  could  not  content 
himself  with  making  them  simply  as  a  contribution 
to  the  field  of  facts,  nor  to  the  formation  of  theories. 
He  wanted  them  to  go  farther  and  furnish  information 
to  other  men.  He  craved  an  audience.  He  needed 
pupils,  or  at  least  auditors.  It  was  not  for  the  sake 
of  being  heard  by  others,  or  of  hearing  himself,  either; 
he  wanted  others  to  know  and  to  enjoy  the  great 
store  of  wonderful  and  fascinating  things  which 
mother  Nature  keeps  in  store  for  those  who  love  her. 
He  was  a  genuine  missionary  of  science,  an  apostle 
of  art,  a  herald  of  the  wonders  and  beauties  of  the 
world.  His  social  nature,  eager  for  companionships, 
sought  associates  in  knowledge.  He  loved  to  share 
what  he  had  received.  And  he  took  others  into  his 
confidence  as  soon  as  he  had  unearthed  a  new  secret 
of  the  world  around  us.  He  had  the  same  spirit  in 
scientific  knowledge  that  sends  men  and  women  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  the  ignorant  and  misguided. 
Indeed,  in  one  of  his  letters,  outlining  the  idea  of  his 
"Sharp  Eyes,"  he  uses  the  word  "missionary," 
which  he  repeats  in  the  introduction  to  that  volume. 
The  whole  paragraph  in  which  it  occurs  shows  Gib- 
son's feeling  toward  those  who,  "having  eyes,  see 
not:" 

"  Recognizing  too  the  evident  hunger  for  informa- 


The  Open  Eye  123 

tion  concerning  every-day  objects  in  Nature,  and  that 
where  one  individual  would  write  for  enlightenment 
one  hundred  would  wonder  in  silence  and  ten  thou- 
sand would  dwell  in  heedless  ignorance,  I  realized 
that  such  a  book  might  also  go  forth  as  a  missionary 
to  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  or  at  least  to  quicken 
a  desire  for  fuller  comprehension  of  the  omnipresent 
marvel  and  beauty  of  the  commonplace."  One  can 
realize  how  to  such  a  nature,  with  such  a  sense  of 
responsibility  to  others,  a  letter  like  the  following 
would  appeal,  written  by  a  friend  of  his  who  had 
given  much  of  her  time  and  strength  to  thought  and 
labor  for  the  interest  of  working  girls : 

"It  has  come  to  me  through  my  association  with 
these  working  girls  that  the  meagerness  of  their  lives 
does  not  so  much  mean  the  lack  of  things  as  the  lack 
of  thoughts,  and  I  have  been  planning  these  *  talks 
which  have  been  running  through  the  winter  in 
answer  to  the  question  'What  shall  we  think  about  ?' 
I  have  asked  every  one  to  make  the  talk  simple  and 
and  plain  and  I  have  tried  to  impress  upon  them  that 
it  is  to  be  only  a  talk,  not  a  lecture.  I  have  also 
sought  for  simple  themes,  so  that  they  need  not  be 
so  far  above  the  comprehension  of  the  untrained 
minds  that  it  would  find  no  answering  chord  in  their 
desires.  If  we  can  take  the  every-day  things  which 
you  and  I  know  are  full  of  a  wonderful  interest,  if 
one  but  know  how  to  see  them,  and  open  their  eyes 


124        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

to  their  wonders,  I  have  believed  that  one  would  be 
opening  doors  into  an  undreamed-of  fairy  land  to 
them.  So  you  see  why  I  come  to  you.  You  are  one 
of  the  door-keepers  into  that  fairy  land.  Will  you 
open  it  for  us  ?  " 

This  desire  to  inform  others  kept  him  wholly  free 
from  anything  like  pedantry.  He  had  none  of  the  self- 
importance  of  men  who  try  to  make  a  little  knowledge 
go  a  great  way.  Nor  was  he  forgetful  of  the  difficul- 
ties of  less  instructed  minds.  His  style  in  picture  and 
in  speech  was  simple  and  direct.  He  had  no  passion 
for  long  words.  He  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  befog 
others  with  the  technical  speech  of  the  specialists.  He 
was  the  friend  of  children  and  simple  country  folk  and 
the  unlearned  everywhere  ;  and  they  will  owe  him  a 
debt  of  gratitude  that  he  spoke  in  their  language  and 
made  them  understand  him.  "  I  wonder,"  he  once  said, 
"if  the  time  will  ever  come  when  a  man  may  read  a 
botanical  work  without  understanding  Latin."  It  was 
one  of  his  ambitions  to  write  such  a  book  ;  he  meant 
to  make  a  botany  in  English,  and  illustrate  it  himself. 
Over  fifteen  hundred  drawings,  as  we  have  seen,  are  in 
existence  which  he  had  accumulated  with  this  work 
in  view, — one  more  of  the  many  schemes  that  fertile 
mind  was  projecting,  never,  alas  !  to  be  carried  out. 

Of  all  the  great  nature  students  of  our  time,  Richard 
Jeffries  ranks  as  the  one  most  closely  in  touch  with  the 
sub-human  world,  the  earth  and  all  the  life  it  bears  in 


The  Open  Eye  125 

and  on  its  bosom.  His  whole  soul  seems  exquisitely  in 
tune  with  the  cosmos.  He  breathes  with  the  respira- 
tions of  the  earth  ;  he  sighs  with  the  breath  of  the 
winds  ;  his  senses  and  his  thoughts  sway  with  the 
bending  of  the  grain  and  the  waving  of  the  tree-tops. 
"To  know  him,"  says  his  eulogist,  Mr.  Ellwanger, 
"is  to  approach  nearer  the  heart  of  the  flower,  the 
mystic  concave  of  the  sky,  and  the  elusive  verge  of  the 
horizon."  But  in  this  respect  he  has  a  peer  in  William 
Hamilton  Gibson.  No  man  ever  lived  on  friendlier 
terms  with  nature.  As  close,  as  accurate,  as  patient 
in  his  observation  as  any  of  the  classic  characters  in 
nature  love,  he  has  a  distinction  all  his  own,  a  peculiar 
personal  attitude  toward  all  extra-human  life.  He  feels 
and  he  expresses  a  sort  of  fellowship  with  life  in  other 
than  human  form.  He  accepts  the  lesser  things  as 
little  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  human.  He  gives  the 
right  hand  of  fellowship  to  whatever  has  life.  He 
humanizes,  if  one  may  so  term  it,  the  life  which  lies 
below  man's  in  the  vital  scale.  What  writer  since  the 
days  of  the  primeval  fairy  tales  ever  brought  the  worlds 
of  human  life  and  other  life  so  near  each  other  ?  He 
seems  a  modern  Siegfried,  into  whose  ears  the  birds 
talk,  and  the  grass  whispers  as  it  grows.  When  he 
comes  back  from  an  exploration  into  the  insect  realm 
close  to  his  own  doorstep,  he  reports  what  he  has  seen 
and  heard  precisely  as  if  he  were  recounting  the  talk 
and  doings  of  his  own  kind.  He  translates  this  life  of 


i26        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

beetle  and  spider  and  bee  and  ant  and  bird  into  the 
terms  of  human  life  and  activity.  He  makes  all  life 
seem  related  to  our  lives,  all  being  to  appear  of  one 
substance,  all  to  be  worthy  of  interest,  sympathy,  love, 
and  reverence.  More  than  any  other  mind  of  his  gener- 
ation he  leads  us  to  feel  that  kinship  of  all  life  which 
Drummond  has  asserted  in  "The  Ascent  of  Life,"  and 
which  Professor  Shaler  has  condensed  into  a  phrase 
in  calling  it  "The  Bond  of  the  Generations."  That 
was  a  shrewd  and  sagacious  disclosure  of  character,  as 
well  as  a  bit  of  fun,  which  led  his  mother  to  write,  in 
the  letter  already  quoted,  "  How  are  your  friends  and 
dear  companions,  the  worms  ?''  He  was  on  terms  of 
friendship  with  all  living  things.  But  to  any  mind  at 
all  sensitive  to  the  real  and  deeper  meaning  of  nature,  to 
its  spiritual  origin,  its  profound  unity,  this  underlying 
affinity  of  all  its  forms  of  life,  there  was  a  bit  of  true 
philosophy  in  the  mother's  comment.  It  was  certainly 
truer  and  wiser  than  the  criticism  once  made  upon  his 
intellectual  temperament  in  the  columns  of  the  "Tri- 
bune. "  "So  thoroughly, "  said  this  reviewer,  ' '  was  he 
absorbed  in  the  life  of  the  humbler  animals  and  plants 
that  one  suspects  he  was  quite  out  of  his  element  else- 
where. He  was  incapable  of  assigning  them  a  relative 
place.  To  him  they  were  always  supreme.  And  be- 
cause they  were  supreme  they  were  colored  and  trans- 
formed by  his  humanizing  and  anthropomorphizing 
whimseys.  He  was  always  reading  into  them  his  own 


The  Open  Eye  127 

charming  qualities  of  mind  and  heart,  at  the  same  time 
that  he  was  imitating  their  own  quickness  and  alert- 
ness. Indeed,  natural  life  always  appealed  not  so  much 
to  his  imagination  as  to  his  fancy.  He  was  absorbed 
in  nature  as  a  child  is  absorbed  in  its  playthings.  With 
all  his  minuteness  of  knowledge,  he  never  fully  and 
unqualifiedly  faced  the  two  great  facts  of  the  natural 
world,  the  struggle  for  existence,  and  the  survival  of 
the  fittest.  He  exaggerated  and  instinctively  trans- 
formed the  natural  world,  and  to  the  using  of  it  as  the 
source  and  stimulus  of  his  own  acute  poetic  ingenuity, 
devoted  all  his  energies  and  interest/'  The  criticism 
is  brilliant,  but  superficial ;  and  its  kindly  temper  does 
not  atone  for  its  total  injustice  and  perversion  of  values 
It  is  pure  assumption,  in  the  first  place,  to  call  the 
"  struggle  for  existence,  and  the  survival  of  the  fittest  " 
"the  two  great  facts  of  the  natural  world."  Who 
authorizes  the  ranking  of  those  facts  as  prime  or  princi- 
pal ?  Why  not  assign  the  highest  place  to  the  con- 
tinuity of  life,  and  the  conservation  of  advantages,  and 
the  advance  of  types  ?  These  are  quite  as  impressive 
facts  as  those  others.  And  if  they  are  suggestive  of 
quite  other  inferences  neither  Gibson  nor  any  nature 
lover  need  be  disparaged  for  choosing  to  dwell  upon 
those  inferences.  .  If  he,  like  a  growing  company  of 
later  students  and  observers,  was  impressed  with  the 
fraternity  of  all  lives,  great  and  small,  with  the  analo- 
gies between  the  human  and  the  dumb  creation,  and 


128        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

felt  the  kinship  of  even  insects  and  birds,  with  their 
later  and  more  favored  human  cousins, — if  we  may  not 
use  a  closer  term, — why  should  this  keener  insight  be 
called  a  "whimsey,"  and  this  deeper  divination  a 
"  fancy  "  ?  And  because  he  had  a  nature  which  thrilled 
and  fired  with  the  delight  of  knowledge  and  all  the 
mental  activity  which  it  sets  in  motion,  why  should  he 
be  accused  of  using  his  growing  store  of  that  knowledge 
as  a  wine  to  warm  his  fancy  and  a  spur  to  the  making  of 
similes  ?  The  fact  is,  Gibson  not  only  saw  and  faced 
the  law  of  struggle  and  of  survival,  but  he  saw  a  great 
deal  more.  And  if  he  did  not  dwell  upon  these  facts 
with  the  lugubrious  emphasis  which  characterized  so 
many  of  his  contemporaries  in  science,  it  was  not  be- 
cause he  saw  them  out  of  relation,  but  in  truer  and 
clearer  perspective.  There  has  been  too  little  sympathy, 
too  little  of  the  "  humanizing  and  anthropomorphizing  " 
spirit  in  scientific  research.  Gibson  was  a  prophet,  in 
advance  of  his  day.  What  he  was  doing  is  fast  becom- 
ing the  dominant  spirit  of  investigators.  And  many 
more  laws  and  principles  will  be  laid  bare  when  men 
come  to  realize  that  all  living  things  are  of  one  blood, 
than  are  to  be  discerned  through  the  cold  and  unsympa- 
thetic gaze  of  old-fashioned  science.  Gibson's  habit, 
moreover,  was  not  a  "humanizing  "  of  animal  and  plant 
life,  in  the  sense  of  trying  to  force  our  life  upon  theirs, 
attributing  human  thoughts  and  aims  and  feelings  to 
the  lower  creation.  It  was  rather  an  effort  to  link  their 


The  Open  Eye  129 

life  to  ours,  by  insight,  sympathy,  and  study.  He 
simply  made  men  feel  the  kinship  of  all  living  things. 
In  that  he  was  fully  in  the  spirit  of  the  most  advanced 
science.  He  believed  thoroughly  in  the  truth  contained 
in  a  sentence  which  he  quoted  from  "the  rapt  philoso- 
pher of  Walden " :  "Man  cannot  afford  to  be  a  natural- 
ist and  look  at  nature  directly.  He  must  look  through 
and  beyond  her.  To  look  at  her  is  as  fatal  as  to  look 
at  the  head  of  Medusa.  It  turns  the  man  of  science  to 
stone." 

How  thoroughly  he  grasped  the  spirit  of  the  "  new 
botany"  which  traces  the  links  between  the  animal 
and  insect  worlds  one  passage  will  suffice  to  show. 

"What  startling  disclosures  are  revealed  to  the  in- 
ward eye  within  the  hearts  of  all  these  strange  orchi- 
daceous flowers !  Blossoms  whose  functions,  through 
long  eras  of  adaptation,  have  gradually  shaped  them- 
selves to  the  forms  of  certain  chosen  insect  sponsors ; 
blossoms  whose  chalices  are  literally  fashioned  to  bees 
or  butterflies  ;  blossoms  whose  slender,  prolonged 
nectaries  invite  and  reward  the  murmuring  sphinx- 
moth  alone,  the  floral  throat  closely  embracing  his 
head  while  it  attaches  its  pollen  masses  to  the  bulg- 
ing eyes,  or  perchance  to  the  capillary  tongue !  And 
thus  in  endless  modifications,  evidences  all  of  the 
same  deep  vital  purpose. 

"  Let  us  then  content  ourselves  no  longer  with  be- 
ing mere  '  botanists  ' — historians  of  structural  facts. 

9 


130        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

The  flowers  are  not  mere  comely  or  curious  vegetable 
creations,  with  colors,  odors,  petals,  stamens,  and  in- 
numerable technical  attributes.  The  wonted  insight 
alike  of  scientist,  philosopher,  theologian,  and  dreamer 
is  now  repudiated  in  the  new  revelation.  Beauty  is 
not  'its  own  excuse  for  being,'  nor  was  fragrance 
ever  'wasted  on  the  desert  air.'  The  seer  has  at  last 
heard  and  interpreted  the  voice  in  the  wilderness. 
The  flower  is  no  longer  a  simple  passive  victim  in  the 
busy  bee's  sweet  pillage,  but  rather  a  conscious  being, 
with  hopes,  aspirations,  and  companionships.  The 
insect  is  its  counterpart.  Its  fragrance  is  but  a  per- 
fumed whisper  of  welcome,  its  color  is  as  the  wooing 
blush  and  rosy  lip,  its  portals  are  decked  for  his  com- 
ing, and  its  sweet  hospitalities  humored  to  his  tarry- 
ing; and  as  it  finally  speeds  its  parting  affinity  rests 
content  that  its  life's  consummation  has  been  ful- 
filled." 

How  closely  he  observed  and  how  much  he  read 
"between  the  lines"  appears  in  his  account  of  his 
introduction  to  the  study  of  entomology,  the  first 
awakening  of  his  real  interest  in  what  became  the 
object  of  a  consuming  passion. 

"  It  was  a  day  in  early  June,  and  nature  was  burst- 
ing with  exuberance.  The  very  earth  was  teeming 
with  awakening  germs — here  an  acorn,  with  its  bi- 
formed  hungry  germ — parody  on  the  dual  mission  of 
mortal  life — one  seeking  earth,  the  other  heaven ;  here 


"The  Bobolink  at  Home  " 

("Strolls  by  Starlight") 

Copyright,  1890,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 


The  Open  Eye  131 

an  odd  little  elf  of  maple,  with  his  winged  cap  still 
clinging  as  he  danced  upon  his  slender  stem;  while 
numerous  nameless  green  things  clove  the  sod  and 
matted  leaves,  and  slender  coils  of  ferns  unrolled  in 
eager  grasp  from  their  woolly  winter  nest. 

"But  dear  to  my  heart  as  were  these  familiar 
tokens,  how  quickly  were  they  all  forgotten  in  my 
contemplation  simply  of  a  little  stone  that  lay  upon  a 
patch  of  mold  directly  at  my  elbow,  and  my  wander- 
ing eyes  were  riveted  upon  it,  for  it  seemed  as  though 
in  the  universal  quickening  even  this  also  had  taken 
life. 

"I  can  see  it  this  moment.  It  moves  again,  and 
yet  again,  until  now,  with  a  final  effort,  it  is  lifted 
from  its  setting  and  rolled  away,  while  in  its  place 
there  protrudes  from  the  ground  a  chrysalis  risen  from 
its  sepulcher.  Filled  with  wonder,  I  sit  and  watch  as 
though  in  a  dream,  awaiting  the  revelation  from  this 
mysterious  earthly  messenger,  when  suddenly  the  en- 
casement swells  and  breaks,  the  cerements  are  burst, 
and  the  strange  shape  gives  birth  to  the  form  of  a 
beautiful  moth  —  a  tender,  trembling  thing,  which 
emerges  from  the  empty  shell  and  creeps  quivering 
upon  an  overhanging  spray. 

"Now  followed  that  beautiful  and  wonderous  un- 
folding of  the  winged  life — the  softly-falling  crum- 
pled folds,  the  quivering  pulsations  of  the  new-born 
wings  eager  for  their  flight,  until  at  length  their  glory 


i32        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

shone  in  purity  and  perfection — a  trial  flutter,  and  the 
perfect  being  took  wing  and  flew  away! 

"Thus  did  I  become  a  votary  to  that  science  known 
as  'entomology/  What  wonder,  then,  that  it  should 
yield  to  me  in  after  life  a  winged  significance,  a  spirit 
of  unrest  that  bursts  the  shell  of  mere  terminology, 
and  enjoys  a  realm  of  resource  not  found  in  books, 
except,  indeed,  between  the  lines  ?  For  the  entomol- 
ogy which  I  would  seek  is  not  yet  written,  and  it  is 
beyond  my  conception  that  any  one  among  its  votaries 
could  witness  unmoved  by  its  deeper  impress  a  spec- 
tacle such  as  this,  or  could  find  through  the  retina  of 
science  alone  an  ample  insight." 

It  is  a  curious  feature  of  his  experience  that  even 
the  birds  and  the  beasts  seemed  to  feel  this  sympathy 
of  his,  and  permitted  him  to  take  such  liberties  with 
them  as  they  seldom  grant.  So  many  stories  of  his 
power  and  its  exercise  have  gone  out,  that  it  seems 
best  to  let  him  give  his  own  version  of  it.  The  first 
instances  are  narrated  in  a  letter  written  from  the 
Thorn  Mountain  House,  Jackson,  New  Hampshire, 
in  September,  1883: 

"Among  other  things  that  Mrs.  Farr  has  confided 
to  a  few  of  her  newly  made  friends  at  the  Intervale, 
is  my  remarkable  power  over  animals  and  birds,  by 
which  I  take  them  in  my  hand  alive  in  the  woods, 
and  tame  them.  But  while  this  idea  of  hers  origi- 
nally started  in  a  joke,  I  am  gradually  becoming  con- 


The  Open  Eye  133 

vinced  that  I  have  the  power  she  attributes  to  me, 
but  fail  to  develop  or  utilize  it.  On  the  very  day 
she  first  spread  the  rumor,  I  walked  with  herself  and 
husband  in  Cathedral  Woods.  He  espied  a  squirrel 
jumping  along  the  pine  needles  with  a  cone  in  his 
mouth.  I  suddenly  conceived  the  notion  to  capture 
him.  I  followed  him  for  a  few  paces  and  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  placing  my  hand  over  him  and  catching 
him,  holding  him  in  my  hand  for  several  minutes 
afterward,  as  my  fingers  still  bear  witness  from  the 
network  of  scratches  they  exhibit.  On  the  following 
day  I  almost  caught  a  chick-a-dee,  and  to  cap  the 
climax,  of  all  things,  to-day,  after  dinner,  while  sitting 
on  the  porch  I  observed  what  I  supposed  to  be  a  day- 
sphinx  hovering  over  a  bed  of  flowers  across  the 
lawn.  I  approached  and  soon  discovered  it  to  be 
a  humming-bird,  and  was  about  to  turn  back  when 
the  thought  suggested  itself  to  try  and  catch  the  little 
fellow.  Accordingly  I  approached  and  watched  him 
closely  for  a  moment  or  two,  drawing  nearer  and 
nearer  the  while.  He  soon  seemed  to  get  accustomed 
to  my  presence  and  came  to  sip  the  honey  from  some 
verbenas  at  my  feet.  I  lowered  my  hand  slowly, 
and  closed  it  about  his  tiny  body  with  perfect  ease 
and  he  seemed  to  make  no  effort  to  release  himself. 
I  took  him  to  my  room  and  closing  the  windows  gave 
him  wing.  I  played  with  him  for  nearly  an  hour 
and  he  at  length  became  so  tame  that  he  would  alight 


134        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

upon  my  finger  and  jump  from  one  finger  to  another 
placed  in  front  of  him,  and  even  preen  his  feathers. 
He  was  a  dear  little  creature  and  I  almost  wanted  to 
keep  him.  He  would  alight  upon  the  window  shut- 
ter, and  when  I  held  my  finger  an  inch  or  so  in  front 
of  him  he  would  jump  on  it  and  fluff  out  his  feathers. 
I  could  pick  him  up  at  any  moment  and  lay  him  on 
his  back  in  my  hand,  where  he  would  remain  per- 
fectly quiet,  with  his  bright  black  eyes  moving  all 
about  as  alive  as  could  be.  At  length  I  concluded  to 
give  him  his  freedom,  but  in  order  first  to  allow  the 
guests  of  the  house  an  opportunity  to  see  my  dimin- 
utive captive,  I  tied  a  long  piece  of  cotton  twine 
loosely  in  one  knot  about  one  of  his  tiny  feet  and  thus 
exhibited  him.  The  twine  was  so  heavy  that  it  eased 
his  occasional  flight  and  the  softness  of  it  prevented 
injury  to  his  foot.  When  all  had  seen  him  I  cut  the 
string  close  to  his  leg  and  away  he  went  like  the 
wind,  no  doubt  taking  his  first  opportunity  to  pick  off 
the  loose  fold  of  string  still  dangling  to  his  leg. 
Once  before  I  almost  picked  a  humming-bird  from 
a  flower,  and  I  believe  I  can  do  it  again  and  again 
with  a  few  trials.  So  I  feel  less  than  ever  like  dis- 
abusing the  mind  of  Mrs.  Farr  of  what  at  first  seemed 
so  incredible  and  improbable." 

In  the  chapter  on  "  Woodnotes"  in  "  Happy  Hunt- 
ing Grounds "  Gibson  describes  the  incident  which 
was  mentioned  by  Dr.  Raymond  at  his  funeral.  He 


The  Open  Eye  135 

was  once  standing  in  line  with  many  others  at  the  polls 
in  a  voting-place  in  Brooklyn,  when  a  dove  flew 
down  and  into  the  room,  and  came  straight  to  him, 
alighting  upon  his  shoulder.  No  one  in  the  place 
knew  anything  about  the  bird,  or  had  ever  seen  it 
before.  No  one  could  see  why  it  should  have  chosen 
him  over  all  others  in  the  group  of  voters.  Possibly 
Mr.  Gibson's  own  explanation  will  have  to  answer. 
In  his  note  of  the  incident  he  says,  "I  remarked  to 
the  bystanders,  *  That  bird  knows  a  good  Republican 
when  he  sees  one."1 

Others  also  recall  the  incident  of  Dr.  Abbott's  visit 
to  Washington,  when  Mr.  Gibson  pointed  out  a  bird 
in  a  near-by  tree  and  began  to  describe  its  peculiar 
markings.  Soon  he  rose  impulsively,  went  up  to  the 
tree,  reached  out  for  the  bird,  and  took  the  little  crea- 
ture in  his  hand,  without  its  appearing  in  the  least 
alarmed  or  hurt.  Then,  when  he  had  finished  his 
description  and  thus  illustrated  it  from  life,  he  re- 
placed his  specimen  in  the  tree,  whence  it  flew  away. 
He  certainly  seemed  to  have  that  about  him  which 
made  even  the  birds  feel  that  he  loved  them  and 
meant  them  no  harm. 

His  crowning  work  as  a  naturalist  was  done  in  the 
lectures  upon  the  cross-fertilization  of  plants  which 
fascinated  so  many  audiences  with  the  novel  story 
of  one  of  nature's  most  amazing  manifestations  of 
adaptation  and  of  resource.  For  years  he  had  been 


William  Hamilton  Gibson 


a  careful  student  of  Sprengel,  Darwin,  and  Muller, 
whose  experiments  and  studies  he  supplemented 
with  careful  observations  of  his  own,  upon  the  rela- 
tions of  plant-  and  insect-life.  He  accumulated  a  mass 
of  studies  and  of  notes.  He  brooded  over  this  theme 
for  years.  And  at  last,  driven  to  utterance,  he  pre- 
pared himself,  as  few  men  are  able  to,  for  a  series  of 
lectures,  illustrated  with  charts  of  his  own  invention 
and  his  own  making.  The  machinery  of  these  lec- 
tures was  a  superb  test  of  his  triple  powers  as  natur- 
alist, as  artist,  as  writer.  They  were  based  on  a 
solid  and  accurate  knowledge  of  natural  history.  They 
were  illustrated  by  a  master  hand  in  mechanical 
technique,  reinforced  by  an  artist's  skill  in  drawing 
and  in  color.  They  were  set  forth  in  a  text  which 
was  clear,  vivacious,  and  forceful.  They  constituted 
one  of  the  most  delightful  and  popular  courses  ever 
given  before  the  American  public.  His  own  account  of 
the  origin  of  these  lectures  is  most  interesting.  He  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  giving  informal  talks  and  lec- 
tures upon  natural  history  in  his  summer  home  at 
Washington,  illustrating  them  by  rapid  sketches  on 
the  blackboard.  "When  I  came,"  he  said,  "to  touch 
upon  the  topic  of  inter-association  and  inter-com- 
munion of  insects  and  flowers,  especially  the  mechan- 
ism of  flowers,  their  movements  and  forms,  I  found 
that  I  was  handicapped,  as  many  other  scientists  had 
been,  by  the  difficulty  of  expressing  motion  by  fixed 


The  Open  Eye  137 

drawings  and  descriptions.  It  occurred  to  me  to 
make  a  drawing  of  the  sage-blossom  with  its  tilted 
stamen  fastened  on  separately  to  show  the  move- 
ment. This  I  did.  It  proved  to  be  a  revelation  to 
myself  and  I  made  several  other  sectional  charts  of 
flowers  and  of  insects  that  same  summer.  They 
served  to  demonstrate  ocularly  and  simply,  without 
the  slightest  effort  on  the  part  of  my  audience,  what 
had  heretofore  been  presented  only  in  difficult  tech- 
nical descriptions.  There  really  seemed  to  be  a  new 
field  for  work,  and  I  accepted  the  indications  and 
concentrated  my  thought  upon  the  theme."  A  writer 
who  had  been  an  attendant  at  these  lectures  gives 
this  description  of  them : 

"The  lecture  describes  some  general  principles 
about  a  group  of  flowers  and  their  associated  insect- 
visitors,  and  while  the  listener  is  endeavoring  to  in- 
duce his  imagination  to  form  some  picture  of  the 
process,  Mr.  Gibson  steps  to  a  screen,  hangs  up  and 
unfolds  a  beautifully  executed  sketch  of  the  flower, 
and  gives  an  ocular  demonstration  of  the  thing  he  has 
just  described.  One  sees  the  bee  crawl  into  the  sage- 
blossom,  tilt  the  pivoted  stamens,  and  come  out  with 
the  pollen  upon  his  back,  which  burden  he  is  now 
ready  to  carry  to  another  blossom,  upon  whose  pistil 
he  partly  unloads  it.  The  same  busy  bee  creeps  into 
the  pogonia  and  straightway  two  powdery  anthers  are 
clasped  to  his  side,  leaving  their  visible  deposit  of 


138        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

yellow  dust.  The  orchids  are  made  to  clap  sticking- 
plasters  upon  their  visitors,  or  to  hurl  bombshells  of 
pollen  on  their  heads.  There  is  no  room  for  failure  to 
understand.  The  whole  process  is  demonstrated  be- 
fore the  sight,  by  a  mechanism  which  works  to  a 
charm,  a  visible  and  artistic  unfolding  of  the  most 
subtle  operations  of  the  plant  and  insect  world." 

An  instant  and  complete  success  awaited  this  new 
venture.  Everywhere  there  was  a  demand  for  the 
lectures,  and  they  were  received  with  a  popular 
interest  rather  surprising  when  one  considers  how 
thoroughly  scientific  they  were.  The  farmers  of  his 
own  neighborhood;  the  members  of  sedate  city  clubs; 
school-children  and  society-women, — all  classes  and 
types  of  people  with  any  appetite  for  knowledge,  or 
any  sense  of  the  wonderful  in  nature,  joined  in  the 
applause  which  greeted  Gibson's  appearance  as  a  lec- 
turer upon  natural  history.  He  repeated  upon  the 
platform  the  success  he  had  won  as  a  writer  and  an 
artist.  He  established  his  reputation  as  a  master  in 
scientific  demonstration.  It  was  truly  said  of  him 
that  the  field  he  entered  in  these  lectures  "had  not 
since  the  days  of  Agassiz  been  cultivated  with  such 
success  as  by  Mr.  Gibson."  As  a  popular  teacher  of 
scientific  fact  no  man  in  this  country  since  Agassiz 
gained  such  a  hold  or  did  such  a  work  as  he.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  if  he  had  lived  he  would  have  won  an 
international  renown  in  this  field  as  well  as  that  of  art. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  ACCIDENT   OF  AUTHORSHIP 

IT  was  written  deep  in  the  constitution  of  his  spirit 
that  William  Hamilton  Gibson  was  to  be  a  natu- 
ralist and  an  artist.  By  endowment  and  by  desire  he 
was  marked  for  that  career  which  made  him  at  once 
the  observer  of  nature  and  her  illustrator  by  pencil 
and  by  brush.  But  the  predestination  does  not  seem 
so  clear  in  the  case  of  his  authorship.  It  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  so  plainly  provided  in  bis  nature 
that  he  was  called  to  be  a  writer  of  books.  Here  the 
prophecy  could  not  have  been  so  surely  made — be- 
forehand. Gibson  himself  used  to  declare  that  he 
drifted  into  authorship  ;  that  his  writing  was  not  pre- 
meditated but  accidental.  He  was  not  impelled  to  this 
mode  of  expression  as  he  was  to  his  drawing  and  his 
painting  and  his  lecturing.  He  described  to  a  friend 
the  manner  in  which  he  began  to  write,  and  his  first 
attempt  at  such  work  as  afterward  gave  him  standing 
as  an  author: 

"The  way  in  which  I  drifted  into  literary  work  was 
quite  natural,  and  in  a  way  this  work  became  impera- 
tive if  I  was  to  gain  a  livelihood.  I  had  my  sketch- 
book and  portfolio  full  of  drawings  from  nature.  As 

139 


140        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

a  beginner  I  could  not  illustrate,  I  could  only  show 
these  specimens,  which  would  not  sell  alone  by  them- 
selves. But  there  were  certain  things  in  natural  his- 
tory which  my  sketches  did  illustrate.  This  fact 
suggested  to  me  the  possibility  of  writing  up  matter 
to  go  with  my  sketches.  In  this  way  I  found  entrance 
into  the  illustrated  publications,  and  eventually  secured 
a  good  hold  for  myself.  But  I  had  never  yet  had  the 
remotest  idea  of  becoming  a  writer.  The  way  in 
which  I  happened  to  take  up  more  serious  writing 
was  through  a  suggestion  of  Mr.  Henry  M.  Alden,  the 
editor  of  Harper's  Magazine.  I  returned  one  summer 
from  a  vacation  spent  in  Washington,  Connecticut, 
and  was  describing  to  him  my  school-life,  telling  him 
little  episodes  which  had  been  recalled  by  my  visit  to 
Mr.  Gunn.  Mr.  Alden  seemed  interested,  and  when 
I  was  done,  said  to  me,  '  I  want  you  to  write  that  out 
for  the  magazine.'  This  suggestion  led  to  an  article 
called  'Snug  Hamlet,'  which  to  my  surprise  and 
gratification  was  received  when  it  appeared,  with  a 
good  deal  of  favor.  Then  Mr.  Alden  suggested  that  I 
prepare  an  article  to  go  with  it,  which,  as  this  had  to 
do  with  summer,  should  treat  of  winter.  This,  too, 
was  written,  'The  Winter  Idyl.'  Then  followed 
others  upon  spring  and  autumn.  With  these  four 
sketches  I  had  enough  for  a  book ;  and  '  Pastoral  Days ' 
was  the  result,  which  proved  a  great  success." 
Such  was  his  introduction  to  literature.  He  always 


The  Accident  of  Authorship 

regarded  it  as  a  pendant  to  his  other  work,  something 
to  introduce  his  sketches,  to  help  along  his  art.  He 
never  became  confused  by  his  various  aptitudes,  nor 
lost  sight  of  his  great  passion  and  purpose.  He  kept 
the  essential  spirit  of  his  life  and  work  quite  clear  of 
any  entanglement  with  what  was  accidental.  He  had 
never  expected,  never  intended  to  be  a  writer  ;  and  his 
success  at  literary  work  was  a  surprise  to  him,  as  it 
was  to  his  friends.  They  apparently  had  never 
thought  of  him  as  a  possible  author,  and  scarcely  knew 
how  to  take  his  achievement. 

When  the  press-notices  of  "Pastoral  Days"  began 
to  come  in,  they  were  almost  unanimous  in  according 
to  the  newly  fledged  author  unstinted  praise  for  the 
literary  portion  of  his  work.  The  chorus  of  apprecia- 
tion is  almost  unbroken  ;  and  one  feels,  through  all  the 
perfunctory  graciousness  of  the  reviewers,  so  hard- 
pressed  at  Christmas-tide,  a  note  of  sincerity  and  real 
pleasure  in  the  new  writer's  production.  When  one 
considers  that  Gibson  the  writer  was  an  unknown 
aspirant  for  favor,  and  that  he  was  competing  with 
Gibson  the  artist,  the  reigning  favorite  among  American 
illustrators,  the  success  of  his  literary  venture  is  really 
amazing.  Repeatedly  the  book  is  called  "a  prose- 
poem.  "  "  Although  there  be  no  poetry  in  it,  the  book 
in  its  totality  is  a  most  exquisite  poem."  "There  is  a 
smooth  and  tender  rhythmic  flow  in  the  phrasing, 
an  affluence  of  diction  which  constitute  one  of  the 


142        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

indispensable  elements  of  poetry,  and  almost  entitle 
the  sketches  to  be  named  among  the  poems  of  the  lan- 
guage." One  of  the  most  competent  critics,  in  a  journal 
of  the  first  rank,  wrote  of  his  prose  : 

"William  Blake  is  the  most  noted  poet-artist  of  this 
century,  but  not  in  his  work  is  to  be  found  such  unity 
and  harmony  between  what  he  does  as  pictorial  and 
literary  artist,  as  exists  in  'Pastoral  Days.'  We  have 
used  the  words  poet-artist  advisedly  in  connection 
with  Mr.  Gibson.  He  is  above  all  a  poet-artist.  Not 
a  poet  alone,  nor  an  artist  alone,  but  the  two  together, 
a  combination  as  rare  as  it  is  charming." 

Even  the  "  Evening  Post "  calls  them  "  Mr.  Gibson's 
four  sympathetic,  appreciative,  poetically  interpretative 
essays  upon  the  seasons."  And  it  puts  the  question  to 
its  readers,  "Need  we  say  that  this  author-artist  is  a 
poet  although  he  writes  in  prose,  or  that  his  text  and 
his  pictures  are  essentially  a  poem  of  the  New  England 
year?"  But  two  of  his  reviewers — one  in  the  "  Utica 
Morning  Herald, "and  another  in  the  "  Boston  Literary 
World  " — actually  cite  the  same  passage  in  his  prose 
which  "reads  with  the  movement  and  rhythm  of 
blank  verse."  The  latter  of  these  says  : 

"Mr.  Gibson  writes  with  a  curious  study  of  rhyth- 
mic effect ;  his  whole  book,  in  fact,  might  easily  have 
been  converted  into  blank  verse, — as  witness  this  ex- 
tract from  pp.  127-8,  which,  to  help  the  illusion,  we 
print  in  that  form  : 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      143 

Silently  like  thoughts  that  come  and  go, 

The  snowflakes  fall  each  one  a  gem, 

The  whitened  air  conceals  all  earthly  trace, 

And  leaves  to  memory  the  space  to  fill. 

I  look  upon  a  blank  whereon  my  fancy  paints, 

As  could  no  hand  of  mine,  the  pictures  and  the  poems  of  a  boyhood 

life: 

And  even  as  the  undertone  of  a  painting,  be  it  warm  or  cool, 
Shall  modify  or  change  the  color  laid  upon  it, 
So  this  cold  and  frosty  background,  through  the  window, 
Transfigures  all  my  thoughts,  and  forms  them  into  winter  memories, 

legion  like  the  snow. 

Oh,  that  I  could  translate  for  other  eyes,  the  winter  idyl  painted  there  ! 
I  see  a  living  past ! 

"All  this,  understand,  and  the  rest  of  a  hundred  and 
fifty  and  more  pages  like  it,  is  sober  prose  ;  but  it 
makes  one  think  of  eighteenth-century  poetry  like 
Graham's,  which  is  very  good  descriptive  poetry  by 
the  way." 

Says  one  enthusiastic  critic,  speaking  first  of  the 
make-up  of  the  volume  : 

"It  is  almost  too  beautiful  to  read  ;  but  with  a 
determination  to  see  what  lay  beyond  this  vision  of 
the  beautiful,  we  commenced  to  read,  and  found  the 
author  to  be  a  high-priest  of  nature.  We  were  led 
along  by  the  charming  simplicity  of  the  writer,  till  at 
last,  in  midsummer  we  seemed  to  be  surrounded  by 
scenes  so  familiar  that  we  almost  suspected  that  by 
some  strange  mishap  the  author  had  misspelled  the 


144        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

name  of  the  school  of  early  days,  and  had  written 
'Snuggery'  for  'Gunnery.'  How  is  this?  .  .  . 

"The  letter-press  of  such  books  is  usually  a  make- 
weight for  the  illustrations  ;  but  in  this  case  it  is  hard 
to  decide  which  of  the  two  merits  the  palm." 

Another  speaks  of  the  text  of  the  book,  saying: 

"  Here  quite  as  strikingly  as  in  the  designs  for  illus- 
tration is  shown  that  loving  familiarity  with  all  the 
infinite  variations  in  nature's  moods  and  works. 
Without  the  pictures  altogether,  these  sketches  would 
compel  admiration  as  very  notable  specimens  of 
word-painting." 

It  will  be  news  to  many  of  his  admirers  to  know 
that  Gibson's  first  book  was  published  in  1876.  It 
was  entitled,  "The  Complete  American  Trapper," 
and  was  published  by  James  Miller,  of  New  York. 
The  book  was  republished  in  1878  by  Bradley  &  Co., 
and  again  in  1880  by  Harper  Brothers  under  the  title, 
"  Camp-Life  in  the  Woods ;  and  the  Tricks  of  Trapping 
and  Trap-Making."  It  was  written  out  of  the  joyous  and 
ample  memories  of  his  youth,  supplemented  by  his 
reading  and  intercourse  with  hunters  and  woodsmen. 
He  refers  in  the  preface  to  his  own  boyish  days, 
and  to  "one  autumn  in  particular  which  shines  out 
above  all  the  rest ;  and  that  was  when  his  traps  were 
first  set,  and  were  the  chief  source  of  his  amuse- 
ment. The  adventurous  excitement  which  sped  him 
on  in  those  daily  tramps  through  the  woods,  and  the 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      145 

buoyant,  exhilarating  effect  of  the  exercise,  can  be 
realized  only  by  those  who  have  had  the  same  experi- 
ence." This  little  book,  which  still  appeals  to  the 
juvenile  mind,  —  a  new  edition  was  put  out  as  lately 
as  1899,  —  has  had  a  singular  charm,  not  only  for  boys, 
but  for  those  grown  men  who  never  quite  lose  the 
heart  of  boyhood.  Gibson  himself  brought  it  to  the 
notice  of  Charles  A.  Dana,  of  the  "New  York  Sun," 
and  handed  him  a  copy  to  read.  The  result  of  that 
chance  courtesy  was  not  a  perfunctory  review  by  a 
subordinate  of  the  staff.  The  "chief"  himself  read 
it  and  wrote  an  enthusiastic  notice  of  over  two 
columns'  length.  The  young  author  —  he  was  only 
twenty-six  —  went  to  Mr.  Beecher  for  a  notice,  at  the 
time  he  first  changed  publishers.  He  wrote  this 
account  of  the  call  to  his  mother: 


4  'NEW  YORK,  >(?  22,  /78. 

"DEAR  MOTHER  :  — 

"  I  sent  you  the  day  I  wrote  this  letter,  four  papers 
and  a  magazine.  The  magazine  is  quite  well  printed 
and  the  bird  article  has  created  a  regular  *  sensation.' 
I  hear  of  it  on  all  sides,  hear  people  talking  about  it 
on  the  ferry-boats  and  in  restaurants,  and  have  re- 
ceived many  enthusiastic  congratulations.  The  press 
(those  which  have  yet  spoken)  are  appreciative,  as 
you  see,  and  there  will  be  doubtless  many  more 
equally  commendatory  notices.  It  is  a  pleasure 
unspeakable. 


146        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"I  have  got  a  little  bit  of  news  which  I  think  will 
please  you.  You  remember  I  told  you  that  I  thought 
of  getting  a  line  from  Mr.  Beecher  on  my  book  to  be 
used  on  a  circular.  Well,  I  called  upon  him  and  took 
my  bird  proofs  with  me.  He  was  delighted,  even 
excited,  over  them,  and  manifested  the  keenest  inter- 
est in  all  pertaining  to  them,  particularly  as  regarded 
Mr.  Parsons.  I  told  him  all  about  the  thing  and  he 
ended  up  by  saying  'Well,  Will,  your  progress  is 
simply  stupendous.  I'm  proud  of  you.'  I  then  told 
him  about  the  change  in  my  book,  and  he  was  again 
delighted  at  the  mention  of  Mr.  Bradley's  name.  He 
said  that  I  might  travel  the  world  over  and  would  not 
find  a  nobler  man  than  Bradley,  and  the  business  push 
of  the  firm  was  second  to  no  other  in  this  or  any  other 
country — that  it  was  a  'feather  in  my  cap'  to  secure 
such  men  as  my  publishers.  I  broached  the  subject 
of  the  '  opinion '  from  him,  asking  him  if  he  could 
conscientiously  give  me  about  'ten  words.'  He 
turned  about  after  a  minute's  thought,  and  penned 
two  pages  of  note  paper,  and  such  a  two  pages  ! 
The  following  is  a  copy  : 

"'Why  was  I  born  so  early?  Why  did  not  the 
messenger  angel  sent  with  me  defer  his  visit  to  earth 
until  the  'Complete  American  Trapper'  had  been 
published  ?  I  even  mourn  to  think  of  what  I  was 
deprived  of  in  my  youth.  I  can't  imagine  a  country 
boy,  a  real  American  boy,  who  would  not  go  without 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      147 

his  dinner  for  months  if  in  this  way  only  he  could 
obtain  this  wonderful  boy's  book  !  And  that  parent 
is  hard-hearted,  and  may  even  be  in  dread  of  I  Tim- 
othy 5 ;  8,  who  will  not  buy  this  book  for  his  boys ; 
and  for  that  matter,  a  man  is  a  boy  until  he  is  fifty 
years  old.  I  am  all  the  more  interested  in  the  book 
because  Mr.  Gibson  is  one  of  my  boys,  brought  up 
under  my  eyes  in  old  Plymouth,  and  by  good  hard 
work  has  deserved  success. 

"  '  HENRY  WARD  BEECHER.' 

"  On  the  morning  after  receiving  the  above  I  found  a 
letter  from  Bradley  &  Co.,  in  which  they  remarked 
that  they  hoped  I  would  succeed  in  getting  a  word 
from  Mr.  Beecher.  I  sent  the  notice  to  them  and 
would  like  you  to  see  the  letter  I  got  from  them  in 
acknowledgment." 

Dr.  J.  G.  Holland  was  another  friend  to  whom  he 
looked  for  a  word  of  approval.  He  was  not  quite  so 
sure  of  his  own  mind,  and  wrote  in  a  much  more 
guarded  way.  His  humane  heart  was  a  little  troubled 
about  the  effect  of  the  book.  In  truth,  Gibson  him- 
self became,  in  later  years,  quite  uneasy  about  it.  His 
own  sympathy  with  animals  increased,  and  his  love  for 
them,  as  little  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  wood;  and 
he  grew  more  and  more  averse  to  whatever  gave 
them  pain.  But  he  rested  in  the  intent  of  his  book  as 
he  describes  it  explicitly  in  the  preface:  "  If  the  poor 


148        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

victims  are  to  serve  no  use  after  their  capture,  either 
as  food,  or  in  the  furnishing  of  their  plumage  or  skins 
for  useful  purposes,  the  sport  becomes  heartless  cruelty, 
and  we  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  encouraging 
it  under  any  circumstances."  He  would  probably 
have  strengthened  that  utterance  at  a  later  day,  and 
possibly  have  written  another  preface.  Dr.  Holland's 
letter  runs  thus : 

"  NEW  YORK,  Nov.  7,  1878. 

"DEAR  MR.  GIBSON: 

"  I  have  been  looking  over  your  book  with  an  interest 
mingled  of  dread  and  delight.  It  is  so  easy  to  pervert 
all  these  traps  of  yours  into  instruments  of  cruelty  that 
the  book  seems  almost  a  dangerous  one.  But,  after 
all,  what  good  thing  is  there  that  is  not  liable  to  be 
perverted  ?  The  capture  of  animals  for  food  is  entirely 
legitimate.  The  capture  of  the  fur-bearing  animals  is 
quite  as  proper,  while  the  destruction  of  those  that 
are  dangerous  to  the  life  of  men  and  domestic  animals 
cannot  be  objected  to  on  any  ground. 

"These  purposes  cover  your  field,  or  nearly  cover 
it,  and  you  certainly  have  met  them  with  a  book 
which,  so  far  as  I  know,  has  no  equal.  It  is  a  good 
book  to  put  in  the  hands  of  every  boy  who  is  not  so 
cruel  as  to  deserve  to  be  caught  in  a  trap  himself. 

"Yours  truly, 

"J.  G.  HOLLAND." 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      149 

It  should  not  be  supposed  that  Gibson  was  so  con- 
fident of  himself  and  his  own  resources  that  he  dis- 
dained the  work  and  experience  and  knowledge  of 
others.  He  was  a  good  reader  and  a  hard  student. 
The  pages  of  his  books  are  crowded  with  passages 
out  of  his  favorite  poets,  and  his  note-books  show  the 
careful  husbanding  of  the  fruits  of  his  reading  on  all 
the  themes  nearest  to  his  heart.  Wordsworth,  Shelley, 
Keats,  and  Browning,  in  all  that  they  have  seen  and 
sung  of  nature,  were  his  authorities  often  cited,  and 
annotated,  and  winnowed  into  his  note-books.  The 
New  England  poets  he  knew  and  loved,  and  shared 
all  their  honest  preference  for  those  home  products 
which  so  many  count  homely  and  call  commonplace 
because  they  happen  to  be  common.  Thoreau  he 
knew  thoroughly  and  loved  as  a  master  in  the  great 
profession  of  nature-study;  and  his  references  to  him 
are  always  those  of  a  modest  disciple,  his  bearing  and 
attitude  that  of  deference  and  respect.  Hawthorne, 
too,  was  one  whose  subtle  and  spiritual  genius  found 
a  sympathetic  and  ready  interpreter  in  his  own  im- 
agination. Darwin  he  knew,  and  all  his  works 
which  bore  upon  cross-fertilization  had  mastered. 
When  he  gave  the  wonderful  talks  on  flowers  and 
their  insect  allies  to  the  townspeople  and  farmers  of 
Washington,  an  old  "  native  "  came  to  him,  and  in  the 
dialect  of  old  New  England  said:  "Mr.  Gibson,  do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  thet  thet  's  whut  Darwin  's  been 


150        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

tellin'  'baout?"  "Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "that  is 
one  of  the  things  he  has  been  talking  about."  "  Wai," 
was  the  rejoinder,  "I  never  took  no  stock  in  Darwin 
afore,  but  I  sh'll  think  a  heap  on  him  naow."  Indeed, 
there  was,  in  all  his  lectures,  the  frankest  acknowledg- 
ment of  his  indebtedness — of  the  common  debt  of  all 
of  us — to  those  pioneers  in  this  fallow  field  of 
knowledge.  He  stinted  no  praise,  no  honor  to  their 
names,  and  used  their  work  with  hearty  acknowledg- 
ment. He  knew  Sprengel,  Darwin,  Muller,  well  and, 
following  their  lead  into  the  enchanted  and  enchant- 
ing country  of  new  knowledge,  soon  made  himself  a 
student  at  first  hand  of  the  things  he  had  been  taught 
by  these  great  masters. 

Gibson  was  by  no  means  an  "easy"  writer.  His 
page,  as  it  stands,  revised  and  corrected,  hardly  gives 
a  sign  of  the  pains  taken  to  bring  it  into  smooth  and 
fluent  shape.  It  seems  to  be  a  natural,  spontaneous 
running-on  of  a  mind  as  sure  of  its  expressions  as  it  is 
of  its  impressions.  But  the  effect  was  purchased  only 
by  the  hardest  and  most  conscientious  labor.  His 
"first  drafts"  show  all  the  experiments  he  made  in 
words,  phrases,  expressions,  and  construction.  Many 
times  the  text  is  hardly  legible,  it  is  so  crossed,  re- 
crossed,  cut,  interlined,  and  rewritten  altogether.  If 
Sheridan's  judgment  is  to  be  accepted,  that  "easy 
writing  's  curst  hard  reading,"  Gibson  comes  honestly 
by  his  pleasing  style.  The  patient  work  of  the  author 


The  Accident  of  Authorship       151 

has  smoothed  the  way  for  the  reader.  He  had  both 
the  qualifications  which  Pope  declares  constitute  the 
secret  of  good  writing, — "  to  know  thoroughly  what 
one  writes  about,  and  not  to  be  affected."  And  to 
these  he  added  a  third ;  he  took  pains. 

In  a  letter  written  to  Mr.  Gunn  in  1880,  Gibson 
pours  out  his  heart,  as  he  always  did  to  his  old 
teacher,  and  reveals  incidentally  the  spirit  in  which  he 
took  his  literary  work,  as  well  as  the  honest  and  con- 
scientious purpose  behind  it  all. 

11  140  NASSAU  ST.,  N.  Y. 
' 'June  7/80. 

"DEAR  MR.  GUNN  : 

"If  you  only  knew  how  much  happiness  your  let- 
ters always  give  me  you  would  never  feel  it  necessary 
to  accompany  them  with  any  apology  whose  need 
exists  only  in  your  imagination.  There  are  a  hundred 
reasons  why  I  value  a  letter  from  you  more  than  that 
of  any  other  friend  in  the  world,  even  though  it 
should  be  all  that  you  seem  to  think,  in  'tameness.'  I 
like  your  so-called  tame  letters.  I  don't  care  how  you 
write,  so  long  as  you  write  when  you  feel  like  it. 
Your  appreciation  of  my  '  Springtime '  gratifies  me 
more  than  all  the  '  press '  encomiums  put  together, 
for  you  combine  all  the  qualifications  for  the  most 
perfect  criticism,  both  as  regards  the  question  of  truth- 
fulness and  style.  I  appreciate  your  praise,  more  than 
I  can  tell,  albeit  I  may  inwardly  feel  that  it  is  not 


152        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

deserved.  When  I  write  on  the  subject  of  nature,  there 
seems  to  be  an  unseen  impulse  that  guides  my  hand 
and  fairly  overwhelms  me  with  memories.  It  is  dif- 
ficult for  me  to  select  from  the  enormous  mass  of 
reminiscences  and  vivid  pictures  that  crowd  upon  me. 
Dates  and  figures  I  cannot  remember,  but  verily  it 
does  seem  that  every  bit  of  animate  or  inanimate  na- 
ture, whether  in  the  form  of  insect  or  of  flower, 
whether  subtle  tint  of  bark  or  lichen,  crumpled  leaf  or 
dried  and  broken  twig  among  the  herbage,  every  one 
comes  up  before  me  as  though  by  magic  spell,  and  I 
thank  my  happy  life  at  the  Gunnery  for  the  inspira- 
tion that  led  to  the  thoughtful  study  of  the  infinite 
beauties  of  nature.  How  thankful  I  am  that  they  are 
infinite,  that  so  long  as  I  live  I  shall  always  find  fresh 
food  for  contemplation.  I  am  now  in  my  element 
and  as  happy  a  man  as  walks  the  earth  at  this  moment. 
My  future  is  without  a  sign  of  disappointment,  and  so 
long  as  I  keep  convinced  of  a  present  lack  of  fulfil- 
ment of  the  powers  within  me,  so  long  am  I  sure  of 
progress  and  happiness  as  far  as  my  work  is  con- 
cerned. My  work  is  so  full  of  faults  to  me,  that  I  am 
amazed  that  others  do  not  see  them.  So  long  as  I 
improve  I  am  satisfied  and  I  am  greatly  gratified  that 
you  consider  my  latest  an  improvement  on  the  former 
efforts. 

"  I  have  just  finished  a  set  of  drawings  for  an 
article  to  complete  the  series.     It  is  an  'Autumn  Rev- 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      153 

erie,'  to  appear  in  October.  The  drawings  are  better 
I  think  than  'Springtime.'  The  article  is  yet  unborn 
but  exists  in  chaos  in  my  brain,  an  immense  tangle  in 
which  at  present  it  seems  impossible  to  find  the  loose 
end.  But  I  shall  get  hold  of  it  in  a  few  days  and  it 
will  reel  off  all  right  I  suppose.  This  literary  work 
was  a  strange  result  of  circumstances.  I  can  thank 
the  Gunnery  for  this  also,  for  it  was  only  after  nar- 
rating my  happy  experience  at  Washington  that  I  was 
urged  to  write  it  up.  The  article  was  a  success  and 
of  course  another  followed  and  another,  each  apparently 
an  improvement,  until  now  I  find  my  literary  work  at 
a  premium.  .  .  . 

"When  it  comes  to  extended  landscapes  I  would 
rather  paint  them  on  larger  surfaces  than  a  few  inches. 
Don't  count  too  much  on  my  'climbing.'  I  have  not 
written  much  yet.  You  may  yet  have  the  chance,  but 
not  if  I  know  it.  I  have  been  utterly  amazed  at  the 
ignorance  shown  by  the  people  (who  are  supposed  to 
be  writing  from  the  '  inspiration  of  Nature ')  both  in 
their  anachronisms  and  in  their  wild  ideas  about  our 
fauna.  Thus  in  September  '  Harper's '  will  appear  five 
large  drawings  by  me  illustrating  a  poem  written  by 
some  fellow  who  you  would  imagine  was  fresh  from 
England  with  his  skylarks  and  fieldfares,  etc.  I  called 
the  attention  of  the  editor  to  it,  but  I  suppose  it  will 
go  in  all  the  same.  My  portfolios  are  full  of  sketches 
and  studies  and  notes  thereon  as  to  dates,  etc.  In 


154        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

writing  haphazard  I  fall  into  many  errors,  but  I  let  no 
manuscript  leave  my  hands  carelessly  prepared.  I  have 
been  criticised  on  my  'coltsfoot,'  some  thinking  only 
Tussilago  Farfara,  whereas  I  used  the  'common' 
name  in  our  section  for  the  Asarum  Canadense.  So 
also  with  my  partridge,  I  knew  better ;  but  should  I 
have  alluded  to  a  '  ruffed  grouse '  in  Sandy  Hook, 
they  would  have  thought  I  was  talking  Latin  ! " 

There  is  an  interesting  letter,  much  prized  by  Gibson, 
in  which  his  old  friend  gave  him  such  unstinted  praise 
as  seldom  comes  from  so  exacting  a  critic  in  the  field 
in  which  the  young  man  was  at  work.  Mr.  Gunn 
wrote  him  : 

"GUNNERY,  WASHINGTON,  CONN. 

"  Sunday,  June  6th,  //  P.M. 

"Mr  DEAR  WILLIE  : 

"I  have  thought  of  you  7  times  every  day,  ever  since 
the  publication  of  your  beautiful  Idyll  of  Spring.  You 
expected  me  to  write  ;  but  I  cannot  do  that  even  now. 
Everything  that  I  think  and  much  more  everything  that 
I  think  on  paper,  seems  so  flat  and  unworthy  to  be 
written.  Other  men  seem  content  to  write  and  say 
little,  or  little  to  the  purpose.  The  fact  is,  Willie,  there 
are  few  men  who  know  the  spring.  They  know  a 
little  about  it,  a  few  flowers,  a  few  birds,  a  few  show- 
ers, a  few  facts  and  phenomena — but  I  don't  know 
any  artists,  poets,  or  other  men  but  you  and  John  Bur- 
roughs that  know  it  all.  I  don't  see  how  or  when  you 


IT] 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      155 

learned  it  all.  I  have  never  met  a  man  that  knew  so 
much  of  the  real  life  of  Nature  as  I  know  myself — and 
how  did  you  come  to  see  and  hear  it  all  ?  I  remember 
it  now  that  you  recall  it  to  me — I  even  thought  one 
night  in  my  bed,  that  I  had  detected  a  slip  in  your 
chronology.  I  thought  you  had  delayed  the  flower 
which  you  euphoniously  denominate  the  '  Swamp 
Cabbage '  till  too  late  a  day.  I  looked  in  the  morning 
in  the  Magazine  and  there  it  was  promptly  ready  in 
the  wild  days  of  March.  I  venture  to  say  that  no  poet 
has  before  been  so  true  to  nature  as  you  have  been.  I 
thought  no  man  except  John  Burroughs  had  seen  or 
heard  so  much  in  the  woods  as  I  am  wont  to  see  ;  but 
lo  !  one  of  my  own  boys  has  seen  with  keener  eyes, 
has  heard  with  more  acute  ears,  and  has  had  genius 
and  taste  to  tell  it  all  in  words,  and  to  paint  it  all  with 
a  magic  brush.  Other  men  don't  know  which  most 
to  admire  in  you,  the  artist  or  the  naturalist.  Well  I 
don't ;  but  who  before  has  described  spring  without  a 
blunder  ?  They  draw  a  nightingale  where  I  heard  a 
whippoorwill,  or  they  set  Venus  to  glow  in  the  east 
on  a  summer  evening.  I  have  not  detected  a  slip. 
And  what  an  old  fool  I  was  to  keep  pencils  away  from 
you,  when  you  were  born  with  a  whole  magazine  of 
them.  I  cannot  write.  I  ought  not  to  have  begun.  I 
think  '  Spring '  by  far  the  richer  article  of  the  two — 
full  of  the  nicest  touches  both  with  pencil  and  with 
pen — and  you  are  a  dear  good  fellow,  and  so  is  your 


156        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

wife.     God  bless  you  both.     Go  and  see  Abbie  at  36 

Garden  Place. 

"Yours, 

"F.  W.  GUNN." 

To  this  Gibson  made  speedy  answer,  giving  full 
absolution  and  much  more  : 

"Do  not  chide  yourself  for  keeping  the  pencils 
from  me,  for  it  is  not  true.  You  never  did— you 
tried,  but  gave  it  up.  When  you  were  wont  to  say 
every  few  minutes  in  school  '  Gibson,  what  are  you 
doing?'  I  used  to  answer,  withdrawing  my  eyes 
from  the  window  'Nothing,  sir.'  You  never  dreamed 
of  the  true  amount  of  thinking  that  was  going  on 
within  my  cranium.  Lazy  as  I  seemed  to  be,  I  was 
never  idle  in  my  mind  and  I  can  see  now  the  flicker- 
ing light  and  shade  among  the  leaves  of  the  old 
school-house  maples — see  the  squirming  caterpillar 
dangling  from  his  silken  thread,  swinging  in  the 
summer  breeze. 

"The  white-faced  wasp  upon  the  window-sill  is 
as  distinct  to  me  now  as  if  he  crawled  upon  this 
paper.  These  and  a  thousand  more  I  recall,  and  even 
the  first  glimpse  of  the  first  day  of  my  happy  life  at 
Washington  comes  up  before  me  with  a  freshness  in 
decided  contrast  to  the  memories  of  the  later  years. 
You  well  remember  'Amy's  Grotto'  in  the  pasture 
lot.  You  took  me  to  see  it  and  my  eyes  were  wide 
open  also  in  those  early  days.  Little  thing,  as  it  was, 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      157 

it  has  impressed  itself  upon  my  memory  as  indel- 
ibly as  anything  in  my  entire  life  ?  I  recall  its  every 
sprig  of  green  and  hear  the  tuneful  drops  in  the  limpid 
pool. 

"Where  then  did  I  learn  it  all,  except  from  your 
own  dear  self  in  the  happiest  season  of  my  life  ?  You 
it  was  who  turned  my  thoughts  towards  nature,  and 
inspired  the  desire  in  me  to  follow  up  the  study.  If 
I  have  lived  to  see  the  day  when  you  are  '  proud  of 
me '  or  when  I  can  in  any  way  contribute  to  your 
pleasure  as  a  meagre  return  for  the  many  years  of 
happiness  you  have  given  me,  I  have  not  lived  in 
vain,  for  this  very  desire  has  been  a  factor  in  the  ends 
and  aims  of  my  ambition. 

"Whew  !  Talk  of  letters  !  Don't  you  ever  say 
another  word  about  your  letters.  A  page  of  your 
handwriting  acts  like  a  talisman  that  conjures  up  a 
host  of  reminiscences,  and  sets  my  pen  and  thoughts 
going  like  a  saw  mill  ;  and  here  it  is  six  o'clock,  and 
my  wife  told  me  to  be  home  by  that  time,  as  we  are 
both  going  to  call  upon  Mrs.  Gunn  this  evening  by 
appointment.  Gracious  !  and  only  to  think  that  I 
have  n't  got  a  moment  to  spare  to  dot  my  i's  and  cross 
my  t's,  nor  send  it  to  the  binders.  I  hope  you  will  be 
able  to  make  it  all  out.  I'll  page  it  for  you  anyhow. 
"Good  bye,  with  much  love  from 

"Your  old  boy 
"Alias  WILLIE."  "  W.  HAMILTON  GIBSON. 


158        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

The  chief  sources  of  the  interest  of  his  literary  work 
appear  in  those  lines.  He  had  something  to  say;  and 
he  said  it  in  his  own  way.  There  are  no  better 
recipes  than  those  for  concocting  a  lasting  success  in 
literature. 

His  style  was,  like  all  good  style,  the  outcome  of 
his  spirit.  He  had  a  marvelous  power  of  telling  be- 
cause he  had  such  exceptional  power  of  seeing.  In 
the  passage  describing  the  night  stroll  in  the  woods, 
he  fills  the  mind  with  the  mystery  of  the  outward 
scene,  and  makes  it  seem,  without  any  sense  of  undue 
artifice,  just  the  setting  for  the  mysterious  transaction 
which  ensues  between  the  primrose  and  the  moth. 

"  Our  misty  primrose  dell  is  fast  lighting  its  pale 
lamps  in  the  twilight.  One  by  one  they  flash  out  in 
the  gloom  as  if  obedient  to  the  hovering  touch  of 
some  Ariel  unseen — or  is  it  the  bright  response  to  the 
firefly's  flitting  torch?  The  sun  has  long  sunk  be- 
neath the  hill.  And  now,  when  the  impenetrable 
dusk  has  deepened  round  about,  involving  all,  where 
but  a  moment  since  all  was  visible,  this  shadowy  dell 
has  forgotten  the  sunset,  and  knows  a  twilight  all  its 
own,  independent  of  the  fading  glow  of  the  sky.  It 
was  a  sleepy  nook  by  day,  where  it  is  now  all  life 
and  vigilance  ;  it  was  dark  and  still  at  noon,  where  it 
is  now  bright  and  murmurous.  The  '  delicious  secret ' 
is  now  whispered  abroad,  and  where  in  all  the  mystic 
alchemy  of  odors  or  attars  shall  you  find  such  a 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      159 

witching  fragrance  as  this  which  is  here  borne  on  the 
diaphanous  tide  of  the  jealous  gliding  mist,  and  fills 
the  air  with  its  sweet  enchantment — the  stilly  night's 
own  spirit  guised  in  perfume  ?  Yonder  bright  cluster, 
deep  within  the  recess  of  the  alders,  how  it  glows  ! 
fanned  by  numerous  feathery  wings,  it  glimmers  in 
the  dark  like  a  phosphorescent  aureole  —  verily  as 
though  some  merry  will-o'-the-wisp,  tired  of  his 
dancing,  had  perched  him  there,  while  other  luminous 
spires  rise  above  the  mist,  or  here  and  there  hover  in 
lambent  banks  beyond,  or,  like  those  throbbing  fires 
beneath  the  ocean  surge,  illume  the  fog  with  half- 
smothered  halo.  This  lustrous  tuft  at  our  elbow!  Let 
us  turn  our  lantern  upon  it.  Its  nightly  whorl  of 
lamps  is  already  lit,  save  one  or  two  that  have  escaped 
our  fairy  in  his  rounds,  but  not  for  long,  for  the  green 
veil  of  this  sunset  bud  is  now  rent  from  base  to  tip. 
The  confined  folded  petals  are  pressing  hard  for  their 
release.  In  a  moment  more,  with  an  audible  impulse, 
the  green  apex  bursts  asunder,  and  the  four  freed 
sepals  slowly  reflex  against  the  hollow  tube  of  the 
flower,  while  the  lustrous  corolla  shakes  out  its  folds, 
saluting  the  air  with  its  virgin  breath. 

"The  slender  stamens  now  explore  the  gloom,  and 
hang  their  festoons  of  webby  pollen  across  their  tips. 
None  too  soon,  for  even  now  a  silvery  moth  circles 
about  the  blossom,  and  settles  among  the  out- 
stretched filaments,  sipping  the  nectar  in  tremulous 


160        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

content.  But  he  carries  a  precious  token  as  he 
hies  away,  a  golden  necklace,  perhaps,  and  with  it  a 
message  to  yonder  blossom  among  the  alders,  and 
thus  until  the  dawn,  his  rounds  directed  with  a  deep 
design  of  which  he  is  an  innocent  instrument,  but 
which  insures  a  perpetual  paradise  of  primroses  for 
future  sippers  like  himself." 

The  reader  feels  the  pure  delight  he  takes  in  the 
beauty  of  bird-  and  flower-  forms;  and  there  is  no 
stinting  of  phrases  in  his  determination  to  convey 
some  sense  of  them  to  those  who,  "having  eyes,  see 
not."  He  is  as  accurate  as  Audubon  and  as  poetic  as 
Lowell  in  his  description  of  the  rose-breasted  gros- 
beak and  his  rich  song. 

"  Hark,  from  the  apple-tree  in  the  field  below,  that 
note  so  full  and  ripe  and  mellow !  '  A  robin, '  say  you  ? 
No;  nor  an  oriole.  There  is  a  distinct  individuality  in 
that  song,  which,  while  suggesting  both  these  birds, 
still  differentiates  it  in  many  respects  as  the  superior 
to  either,  as  though  from  a  fuller  throat,  a  more  ample 
vocal  source.  It  is  one  of  the  rarest,  choicest  voices 
among  all  our  feathered  songsters,  in  timbre  and 
volume  surpassing  the  thrush,  and  in  these  qualities 
unequaled,  I  think,  by  any  of  our  birds.  Listen  to 
the  overflowing  measure  of  its  melody!  How  com- 
paratively few  the  notes,  and  yet  how  telling! — no 
single  tone  lost,  no  superficial  intricacies.  Sensuous, 
and  suffused  with  color,  it  is  like  a  rich,  pulpy, 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      161 

luscious,  pink-cheeked  tropic  fruit  rendered  into 
sound.  Such  would  seem  the  irresistible  figure  as  I 
listen  with  closed  eyes  to  the  swelling  notes — a  figure 
entirely  independent  of,  though  certainly  sustained  in, 
the  ornithological  form  pictured  in  the  song,  sitting 
quietly  on  an  upper  twig,  with  full  plump  breast  as 
carmine-cheeked  as  the  autumn  apples  now  promised 
in  the  swelling  blossom  calyxes  among  which  it  so 
quietly  nestles.  I  can  see  the  jetty  head,  and  quills 
splashed  with  silvery  white,  and  the  intervals  of  song 
seem  spanned  with  rosy  light  as  pure  as  the  prism  re- 
leased from  those  upraised  wings  as  the  singer  preens 
his  plumage  with  ivory  bill.  This  is  the  rose-breasted 
grosbeak,  with  his  overflowing  cup,  his  pastoral 
cornucopia,  his  musical  horn  of  plenty." 

There  is  something  about  the  description  of  the 
piping  of  the  frogs  in  the  distant  marsh  which  brings 
tears  to  the  eye  of  him  who  reads  it  with  a  hundred 
boyhood  memories  to  make  it  real.  This  is  the  pas- 
sage which  excited  the  admiration  of  the  critic  in  the 
"Saturday  Review,"  and  led  him  to  say:  "People 
must  be  strangely  constituted  who  do  not  enjoy  such 
pages  as  Mr.  Gibson  has  presented  to  us  here.  It  is 
not  merely  that  he  writes  well,  though  he  possesses  a 
style  that  is  full  of  felicities,  but  the  subject  itself  is 
irresistibly  fascinating." 

"  A  plaintive  piping  trill  now  breaks  the  impressive 
stillness.  Again  and  again  I  hear  the  little  lonely  voice 


1 62        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

vibrating  through  the  low-lying  mist.  It  is  only  a 
little  frog  in  some  far-off  marsh  ;  but  what  a  sweet 
sense  of  sadness  is  awakened  by  that  lowly  melody! 
How  its  weird  minor  key,  with  its  magic  touch,  un- 
locks the  treasures  of  the  heart.  Only  the  peeping  of 
a  frog;  but  where  in  all  the  varied  voices  of  the  night, 
where,  even  among  the  great  chorus  of  nature's 
sweetest  music,  is  there  another  song  so  lulling  in  its 
dreamy  melody,  so  full  of  that  emotive  charm  which 
quickens  the  human  heart  ?  How  often  in  the  vague 
spring  twilight  have  I  yielded  to  the  strange,  fascinat- 
ing melancholy  awakened  by  the  frog's  low  murmur 
at  the  water's  edge !  How  many  times  have  I  lingered 
near  some  swampy  roadside  bog,  and  let  these  little 
wizards  weave  their  mystic  spell  about  my  willing 
senses,  while  the  very  air  seemed  to  quiver  in  the 
fulness  of  their  song!  I  remember  the  tangle  of  tall 
and  withered  rushes,  through  whose  mysterious 
depths  the  eye  in  vain  would  strive  to  penetrate  at  the 
sound  of  some  faint  splash  or  ripple,  or  perhaps  at  the 
quaint,  high-keyed  note  of  some  little  isolated  hermit, 
piping  in  his  somber  solitude.  I  recall  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  rising  moon,  as  its  great  golden  face  peered  out 
at  me  from  over  the  distant  hill,  enclosing  half  the 
summit  against  its  broad  and  luminous  surface. 
Slowly  and  steadily  it  seemed  to  steal  into  view,  un- 
til, risen  in  all  its  fulness,  I  caughc  its  image  in  the 
trembling  ripples  at  the  edge  of  the  soggy  pool,  where 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      163 

the  palpitating  water  responded  to  the  frog's  low, 
tremulous  monotone." 

He  loves  a  swamp,  and  is  repeatedly  telling  of  its 
charm,  which  he  celebrates  in  a  brief  paragraph  that 
swings  through  the  whole  cycle  of  the  natural  year, 
and  finds  a  new  theme  to  celebrate  for  every  month. 

"  I  know  of  no  other  place  in  which  the  progress 
of  the  year  is  so  readily  traced  as  in  these  swampy 
fallow  lands.  They  are  a  living  calendar,  not  merely 
of  the  seasons  alone,  but  of  every  month  successively ; 
and  its  record  is  almost  unmistakably  disclosed.  It  is 
whispered  in  the  fragrant  breath  of  flowers,  and  of  the 
aromatic  herbage  you  crush  beneath  your  feet.  It 
floats  about  on  filmy  wings  of  dragon-fly  and  butter- 
fly, or  glistens  in  the  air  on  silky  seeds.  It  skips  upon 
the  surface  of  the  water,  or  swims  among  the  weeds 
beneath;  and  is  noised  about  in  myriads  of  telltale 
songs  among  the  reeds  and  sedges.  The  swallows 
and  the  starlings  proclaim  it  in  their  flight,  and  the 
very  absence  of  these  living  features  is  as  eloquent  as 
life  itself.  Even  in  the  simple  story  of  the  leaf,  the 
bud,  the  blossom,  and  the  downy  seed,  it  is  told  as 
plainly  as  though  written  in  prosaic  words  and  strewn 
among  the  herbage. 

"  In  the  early,  blustering  days  of  March,  there  is  a 
stir  beneath  the  thawing  ground,  and  the  swamp 
cabbage-root  sends  up  a  well  protected  scout  to  ex- 
plore among  the  bogs;  but  so  dismal  are  the  tidings 


1 64        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

which  he  brings,  that  for  weeks  no  other  venturing 
sprout  dares  lift  its  head.  He  braves  alone  the  stormy 
month — the  solitary  sign  of  spring,  save,  perhaps,  the 
lengthening  of  the  alder  catkins  that  loosen  in  the 
wind.  April  woos  the  yellow  cowslips  into  bloom 
along  the  water's  edge,  and  the  golden  willow  twigs 
shake  out  their  perfumed  tassels.  In  May  the  prickly 
carex  blossoms  among  the  tussocks,  and  the  calamus 
buds  burst  forth  among  their  flat,  green  blades.  June 
is  heralded  on  right  and  left  by  the  unfurling  of  blue- 
flags,  and  the  eyebright  blue  winks  and  blinks  as  it 
awakens  in  the  dazzling  July  sun. 

"Then  follows  brimful  August,  with  the  summer's 
consummation  of  luxuriance  and  bloom  ;  with  flowers 
in  dense  profusion  in  bouquets  of  iron- weed  and  thor- 
oughworts,  of  cardinal  flowers  and  fragrant  clethra, 
with  their  host  of  blossoming  companions.  The  milk- 
weed pods  fray  out  their  early  floss  upon  September 
breezes,  and  the  blue  petals  of  the  gentian  first  unfold 
their  fringes.  October  overwhelms  us  with  the  friendly 
tokens  of  bur-marigolds  and  bidens  ;  while  its  thickets 
of  black-alder  lose  their  autumn  verdure,  and  leave 
November  with  a  "burning  bush"  of  scarlet  berries 
hitherto  half-hidden  in  the  leafage.  Now,  too,  the 
copses  of  witch-hazel  bedeck  themselves,  and  are 
yellow  with  their  tiny  ribbons.  December's  name  is 
written  in  wreaths  of  snow  upon  the  withered  stalks 
of  slender  weeds  and  rushes,  which  soon  lie  bent  and 


The  Accident  of  Authorship      165 

broken  in  the  lap  of  January,  crushed  beneath  their 
winter  weight.  And  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  cycle, 
February  sees  the  swelling  buds  of  willow,  with  their 
restless  pussies  eager  for  the  spring,  half  creeping  from 
their  winter  cells." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   WORKMAN   AND   HIS   WORK 

MR.  GIBSON  was  characteristically  American  in  his 
habits  of  work  and  in  his  love  of  it.  He  wrought 
with  a  zeal  and  a  passion  which  are  characteristic  of 
the  race  from  which  he  came.  And  the  early,  abrupt, 
and  untimely  close  of  his  brilliant  career  must  be 
charged  almost  wholly  to  this  fiery  passion  for  work, 
this  ardor  in  doing. 

One  comes  upon  traces  of  this  characteristic  very 
early  in  his  career.  His  own  letters  as  well  as  the 
letters  of  his  friends  written  in  his  youth  show  that, 
very  soon  after  leaving  "The  Gunnery  "  at  any  rate,  he 
acquired  the  habit  of  continuous  application,  and  be- 
came an  expert  at  it.  No  sooner  had  he  made  up  his 
mind  what  he  would  do  in  life,  than  he  began  to  do 
it  with  all  his  might.  He  felt  the  pressure  of  need, 
and  responded  to  it  promptly  and  vigorously.  He  lost 
no  time,  he  spared  no  pains  to  train  himself  for  (his 
career.  He  realized  his  lack  of  education  in  art,  and 
that  he  had  to  furnish  out  of  himself  both  discipline 
and  knowledge.  There  was  in  his  mind  evidently  but 
one  way  to  supply  the  defects  of  technical  education, 
which  to  so  many  would  have  seemed  insuperable 

166 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     167 

obstacles.  He  could  overcome  everything  by  work. 
He  knew  how  to  "toil  terribly."  He  spared  no  time, 
no  trial,  no  tasking  of  himself.  After  he  had  done  a 
good  day's  work  in  the  things  he  was  under  contract 
to  do  for  his  employers,  he  would  turn  to  work  again 
for  himself  and  upon  schemes  of  his  own,  and  would 
spend  hours  more  in  the  most  absorbing  labor.  If  any 
student  of  his  work  should  wonder  how  his  swift 
success  was  won,  and  how  he  so  soon  made  good  his 
defects  of  education  and  training,  they  may  find  their 
answer  in  that  one  word — work.  It  was  his  talisman. 
That  he  had  gifts,  power,  genius,  he  believed  most 
implicitly.  It  was  that  which  gave  him  courage  ;  but 
he  knew,  too,  that  genius  without  work  is  an  engine 
without  steam.  A  letter  which  he  wrote  to  his  mother 
during  the  progress  of  his  first  drawing  for  the  "  Al- 
dine,"  of  the  Inness  landscape  is  his  own  confession 
of  excessive  industry,  and  gives  a  glimpse  at  the  same 
time  of  the  fiery  zeal  and  undoubting  courage  which 
possessed  him. 

"I  had  intended  writing  to  you  during  the  early 
part  of  the  week,  as  I  had  a  message  to  send  you; 
but  I  have  been  so  excessively  busy  that  I  could  find 
no  moment  of  time.  ...  I  have  worked  very 
hard  during  the  past  few  weeks,  not  only  during  the 
day,  but  in  the  evenings  also,  yea,  even  until  the 
morning  on  several  occasions.  The  object  of  my 
labors  you  of  course  understand  is  the  Inness  picture. 


1 68        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Well,  it  is  finished  and  has  been  universally  admired. 
I  have  drawn  nearly  the  whole  of  it  in  the  night-time 
here  at  home,  as  my  days  have  been  occupied  by 
O.  J.  &  Co.'s  work.  I  have  (with  reason)  been  very 
anxious  over  this  '  Aldine '  picture  of  mine.  Everybody 
has  told  me  that  I  was  too  headstrong  to  attempt 
such  a  large  drawing  for  my  first  start  in  landscape, 
and  no  one  imagined  that  I  would  succeed.  Roberts 
told  me  that  he  knew  I  would  not  succeed  and  that 
I  ought  to  have  commenced  on  something  smaller  at 
first.  Others  have  said :  '  It 's  a  pretty  big  start  to 
commence  with  a  full  page  in  the  finest  American 
illustrated  journal.'  But  I  have  commenced  and  my 
drawing  has  been  admired,  accepted  and  paid  for  by 
Mr.  Sutton,  and  is  to  appear  in  the  'Aldine'  in  the 
course  of  a  few  months.  I  am  going  to  study  very 
hard  on  landscape  henceforth,  as  I  feel  convinced  of 
success.  ...  I  have  received  congratulations  on 
all  sides,  for  it  is  not  a  small  thing  to  get  a  drawing 
accepted  in  the  *  Aldine.'  I,  of  course,  am  very  much 
encouraged  and  am  determined  that  my  next  drawing 
shall  be  an  improvement  on  my  last." 

While  he  was  writing  those  lines  his  mother  was 
writing  to  him,  in  warning  and  caution  against  his 
undue  application : 

"I  hope  your  picture  will  be  done  before  long,  so 
that  you  will  not  have  to  work  at  night.  Depend 
upon  it  you  will  lose  strength  and  eyesight  by  unwise 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     169 

application.     I  am  uneasy  to  find  that  you  are  trying 
your  strength  to  its  utmost  limit.     Do  be  advised." 

Receiving  the  news  of  his  success  with  his  work, 
she  sends  him  her  congratulations,  and  renews  her 
motherly — and  timely — cautions.  It  is  all  very  in- 
teresting reading  in  the  light  of  what  followed;  for  it 
is  to  be  remembered  that  all  these  letters  were  written 
in  1872,  when  Gibson  was  but  twenty-two, — a  mere 
stripling  just  entering  the  lists  ! 

"SANDY  HOOK,  Tuesday  Eve.,  March  12/72. 

"MY  DEAR  WILLIE: 

"  Excuse  this  peculiar  note-paper!  Henry  has  gone 
out  to  spend  the  evening,  and  I  cannot  find  the  family 
supply  without  more  hunting  round  than  is  worth 
while  for  mere  appearance's  sake.  I  was  surprised 
and  delighted  at  the  good  news  in  your  welcome 
letter  this  noon !  Certainly  it  was  a  great  deal  more 
than  I  expected,  and  I  think  your  success,  in  such  an 
ambitious  effort,  the  first  time,  and  with  the  '  Aldine,' 
is  truly  wonderful.  I  can  only  account  for  it  by  the 
explanation,  that  your  talent  in  art  is  an  intuition,  a 
gift,  by  which  you  are,  and  will  be,  enabled  to  surpass 
those  who  would  seem  to  be  more  likely  to  succeed 
than  you,  on  account  of  greater  practice  and  educa- 
tion in  that  particular.  But  even  if  this  is  the  case, 
that  would  not  be  enough  of  itself,  and  you  add  to  it 
an  industry,  a  perseverance,  and  a  courage  which  put 


170        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

you  straight  through.  I  cannot  see  why,  if  your 
health  and  strength  are  spared,  yours  should  not  yet 
become  a  prominent  name  among  American  artists. 
If  you  study,  work,  and  continue  to  add  to  your 
knowledge  and  skill,  you  will,  by  and  by,  begin  to 
compose,  and  once  well  started  in  that  line,  your  future 
is  made,  and  your  best  ambition  satisfied.  I  con- 
gratulate you  most  sincerely  and  lovingly,  and  thank 
God  that  he  has  endowed  you  with  a  rare  and  blessed 
gift.  Now,  don't  keep  on  working  at  night.  You  must 
see  that  it  is  very  unwise,  and  that  for  the  future  you 
should  not  allow  yourself  to  be  tempted  into  it." 

His  early  friend,  Mr.  Beard,  from  whom  the  for- 
tunes of  business  had  separated  him,  wrote  to  him  in 
the  same  warning  strain.  Would  that  these  friendly 
counsels  had  been  heeded!  It  was  this  burning  of  the 
candle  at  both  ends  which  forecast  the  early  end  of  it 
all  at  forty-six.  But  who  can  think  of  this  letter  as 
addressed  to  the  boy  in  whom  Mr.  Gunn  could 
awaken  no  spontaneous  industry! 

"Do  you  know,  I  think  that  in  many  ways  our 
divorce  is  a  mistake.  I  am  perhaps  more  prosperous, 
but  not  so  happy  as  in  the  old  times  when  we  were 
together;  and  had  we  waited  a  little  while  we  would 
have  found  ample  space  for  both  to  swim  without  in- 
terfering with  each  other.  The  tide  was  rising.  It 
has  risen  very  high  for  you  at  least,  and  I  have  been 
and  now  am  heartily  glad  that  it  is  so. 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     171 

"  You  need  my  laziness  and  carelessness  to  temper 
your  consuming  ambition.  You  need  to  alternately 
get  indignant,  and  laugh,  and  argue,  and  double  shuffle, 
if  you  would  avoid  the  horrors  of  an  early  grave.  Of 
course  it  is  not  becoming  to  your  station  and  position 
to  do  this,  but  to  wear  your  dignity  always  is  as  bad 
as  being  condemned  to  a  dress  suit  and  tight  shoes 
without  the  possibility  of  a  change.  Forgive  an  old 
friend  for  speaking  so  freely,  but  I  have  a  real  affection 
for  you  and  I  believe  that  you  need  this  admonition. 
Your  work  is  killing  you,  because  you  are  so  fierce  at 
it,  and  don't  let  up  at  all.  I  know  Parsons  thinks  as  I 
do  and  in  fact  you  must  know  it  yourself." 

Seven  years  later,  in  1879,  his  wife  in  a  letter  to 
his  mother  reveals  the  same  habit,  and  prophesies, 
alas!  too  truthfully,  the  inevitable  result.  She  says: 

"  Will,  I  believe,  will  always  be  busy.day  and  night 
until  he  breaks  down  in  health.  I  think  that  would  be 
the  only  thing  (except,  perhaps,  a  fortune)  which 
would  put  a  stop  to  his  midnight  work.  I  certainly 
thought  he  would  be  ill  after  his  last  strain.  He  was 
so  weak  after  remaining  in  the  house  so  long,  and 
using  his  brain  so  continuously,  that  when  the  last 
day  came  and  he  was  copying  his  manuscript,  he 
nearly  fainted.  Only  a  few  more  strains  like  that  will 
be  necessary  to  weaken  his  constitution  seriously." 

But  not  only  did  he  overdraw  upon  the  hours  he 
ought  to  have  spent  in  sleep.  He  was  always  at  it 


172        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

while  he  was  awake.  He  was  not  a  fitful  workman, 
busy  by  turns,  but  taking  equal  turns  at  idleness.  He 
could  not  be  idle.  All  times  were  work-times,  the 
odds-and-ends  of  the  day,  the  intervals  between  tasks, 
the  moments  of  interruption  and  of  waiting,  he  turned 
to  the  most  valuable  account.  Among  the  drawings 
which  he  made  for  his  projected  botany  he  left  a 
memorandum,  which  shows  his  incessant  watchful- 
ness for  subjects  of  study,  and  the  prompt  industry 
which  made  him  always  ready  to  secure  his  material. 
He  was  always  loaded  for  the  game  that  turned  up. 
And  no  scantiness  of  materials  or  of  tools  in  the  least 
daunted  or  deterred  him.  This  is  his  memorandum 
as  he  wrote  it : 

Botany. 

"Drawings  made  in  odd  moments." 

"While  waiting  for  train." 

"On  back  of  mule." 

"During  delay  on  railroad." 

"On  envelopes,  bills,  letters,  check-book,  on  back 
of  books,  margins  of  newspapers,  inside  of  a 
lozenge-paper,  all  that  was  available." 

"  On  top  of  stage-coach,  from  overhanging  bough 
while  waiting." 

"On  boats  in  water;  on  back  of  mule." 

"While  sketching;  strolls  in  park." 

"  On  city  fence  while  waiting  for  car, yard  specimen." 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     173 

"  From  specimens  dried  to  shreds." 

"From  specimens  collected  in  hat  or  under  hat 
sweat-band." 

"On ferry-boat  from  specimens  picked incity  yards." 

"Flower  reconstructed  from  dried  specimens  on 
fruity  stems  entangled  in  spider-web.  (Spider 
an  ally.)" 

' '  Leaf.  Impression  with  soot  at  hotels  everywhere ; 
intricate  details  in  a  few  seconds." 

"Seeds  from  spider-webs  and  bird's-nests." 

Let  indolence  meditate  this  matter. 

Not  even  the  working  hours  seem  to  have  been 
sufficient  for  him.  He  also  trenched  upon  the  term 
sacred  to  sleep,  and  in  one  instance,  at  least,  did  his 
planning  in  his  dreams.  For  a  time  before  the  publi- 
cation of  the  "Sharp  Eyes"  articles  was  begun  in 
Harper's  "Young  Folks,"  Gibson  was  casting  about 
for  some  new  idea  for  a  book,  some  hint  or  inspira- 
tion or  theme  which  should  serve  to  focalize  his 
thoughts  and  materials.  One  morning  he  said  to  his 
wife:  "I  dreamed  out  a  whole  book  last  night.  I 
never  had  such  a  vivid  dream.  The  whole  scheme 
came  to  me,  and  I  know  just  what  I  will  do.  I  am 
going  over  to  Harpers'  to  talk  it  over  with  them." 
This  he  immediately  did,  offering  them  fifty-two  ar- 
ticles, to  serve  as  a  sort  of  naturalist's  almanac.  The 
contract  was  agreed  upon  and  he  began  work  imme- 
diately. He  often  thereafter  referred  to  his  "  lucky 


174        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

dream."  It  was,  perhaps,  the  most  popular  of  his 
books,  and,  whatever  its  origin,  was  certainly  in  itself 
a  very  wide-awake  volume. 

His  note-books  are  witnesses  of  the  same  character 
and  tenor.  They  show,  of  course,  his  thorough 
study  of  every  project  on  which  his  mind  was  en- 
gaged. They  show  also  how  his  brain  teemed  with 
new  projects  and  outlined  new  schemes,  before  he 
was  done  with  old  ones.  His  purposes  were  always 
far  outrunning  his  capacity  to  perform.  Yet  if  ever 
a  man  could  do  two  or  three  things  at  a  time,  he  was 
the  one.  At  least  his  motto  might  well  have  been 
that  remorseless  pledge  to  continual  industry,  "Nulla 
dies  sine  linea."  One  of  his  note-books  dates  from 
April,  1877,  and  runs  to  June  12,  1896,  a  month  before 
he  died,  covering  thus  a  period  of  nineteen  years. 
In  it  is  a  record  of  every  day's  work  in  all  that  time  ; 
and  if  there  was  not  a  line  drawn  every  day,  on  some 
days  he  drew  enough  to  fully  make  good  the  deficit 
and  fulfil  the  very  letter  of  the  proverb.  Sometimes 
the  entries  record  every  item  of  his  work,  like  the 
following,  taken  at  random  : 

"March  29.     Boston  on  business." 

"April   9.     Cover  design  for  'Sharp  Eyes.' ' 

"     "       "    Art  Artisans'  Institute." 

"     "     13.     All  day  on  proof  of  'Sharp  Eyes.'" 

((  (f  .A  «  «  (t  t(  It  «  If 

14. 

"     "     15.     New  York  \  day,  \  on  '  Sharp  Eyes.'  " 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     175 

"April  1 6.     \  day  on  proof,  'Sharp  Eyes." 

"  "  "  Art  Artisans' 2  hours,  3  hours  in  evening 
on  proofs." 

"April  17.     Whole  day  on  proofs." 

"     "     1 8.     Jday  on  proof." 

"  "  20.  Initial,  design,  'Shakespeare's  Coun- 
try.'" 

"April  20.  Initial,  design,  illustration  of  apple- 
blossom." 

"April  20.     Design  for  ' Sharp  Eyes,'  '  Bees.' ' 

So  the  pages  run,  by  scores  and  by  hundreds.  But 
elsewhere  he  condenses  the  story  of  a  season's  con- 
tinuous work  into  a  few  lines.  After  the  date  May 
1 8,  1887,  he  wrote  : 

"Left  for  Hilltop— 

"A  very  busy  summer.  Made  many  drawings  for 
two  prospective  articles  on  '  Midnight  Rambles,'  and 
'  Insect  Botanists,'  beside  many  flower  studies,  and 
a  number  of  water-colors.  Very  busy  on  the  me- 
morial volume  of  Mr.  Gunn.  Made  a  large  number 
of  drawings  for  Botany." 

Then  follow  pages  of  entries  recording  the 
sketches,  designs,  water-colors,  illustrations,  which  in 
part  constituted  the  details  of  that  "busy  summer." 
The  following  year  he  made  a  similar  condensation  of 
a  European  trip.  It  is  but  a  note,  yet  the  single  item 
which  refers  to  "three  hundred  photographs,"  tells 
the  story  of  his  busy  days  : 


176        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"Trip  to  Europe.  Left  New  York  in  April,  re- 
turned in  June.  Visited  England,  France,  Holland, 
Switzerland,  including  a  fortnight  each  in  London  and 
Paris.  Brought  home  over  300  instantaneous  photo- 
graphs, taken  under  all  conditions  by  my  detective 
camera.  Went  direct  to  Hilltop,  and  settled  down  to 
magazine  work." 

These  note-books  carry  the  evidence  of  his  faith- 
fulness to  his  various  aims  and  lines  of  interest. 
While  he  was  at  work  as  the  artist,  he  never  hesitated 
to  do  something  for  himself  as  either  naturalist  or 
author.  He  was  never  so  preoccupied  with  his 
sketching  that  his  ear  could  not  catch  a  new  bird- 
note,  or  his  eye  perceive  an  event  in  the  insect- world. 
His  color  box  often  did  duty  as  a  botanist's  case,  or 
bore  home  a  load  of  cocoons  and  beetles.  And  when 
he  sat  down  to  record  his  impressions  or  outline  his 
plans  he  revealed  his  triple  interest  in  every  line. 
Once  he  began  certain  memoranda  which  he  headed 
"Night-Notes."  In  the  margin,  by  a  dozen  hasty 
lines  with  his  pen  he  made  a  design  for  a  title-page, — 
a  lighted  candle  with  moths  flying  about  it.  Then  he 
wrote  into  his  text  ideas  which  should  interest  the 
future  reader  of  some  article,  upon  the  scientific  side, 
in  sentences  which  suggest  at  once  the  illustrations 
and  the  text  itself: 

"Moths  creeping  up  screen  outside  window,  their 
presence  marked  only  by  their  luminous  eyes.  The 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     177 

lamp  the  center  of  a  whirling  maze  of  all  sorts  of 
nocturnal  insects.  A  rare  treat  spread  on  the  table 
before  me.  Exquisite  hints  for  the  colorist,  decorator, 
or  illustrator.  Here  a  dainty  mite  of  a  moth  with  the 
most  delicate  of  sage-green,  flat-open  wings,  crossed 
by  bands  of  cream-color.  Another  with  steeple- 
roofed  wings  (at  rest)  glistening  like  satin,  decorated 
with  faint  contrast  of  pale  pink  and  and  faded  olive." 
And  so  on  for  pages  together. 

Such  passages  as  these  from  his  own  notes,  never 
meant  for  the  public  eye,  and  therefore  absolutely 
conclusive  of  his  sincerity  and  his  real  spirit,  show 
how  truly  he  was  an  observer  at  first  hand.  He  saw 
things  for  himself.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  cant  in 
what  he  had  to  say  about  original  observation  of 
nature,  her  wonders  and  her  beauties.  The  thing  he 
tried  to  lead  others  to  do  he  had  already  done  him- 
self. A  friend,  who  is  himself  a  keen  observer  of 
nature,  wrote  of  Gibson,  at  his  death : 

"  It  was  to  the  habit  of  observation  more  than  to 
any  endowment  that  he  owed  the  prosperity  of  his 
work, — for  his  life  was  a  successful  one.  It  enabled 
him  to  see  clearly,  without  a  teacher,  what  others  find 
it  hard  to  see  at  all.  He  acquired  his  art  practically 
without  instruction,  and  indeed  against  opposition, 
simply  taking  his  pencil  and  brush  into  the  field  and 
drawing  and  painting  what  he  saw  there.  The 
greatest  painters  are  those  who  have  pursued  this 


178        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

method.  As  a  writer  and  lecturer  he  showed  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  good  scholastic  education;  yet  his  themes 
were  those  he  had  chosen  and  worked  out  for  him- 
self. He  was  as  well-informed  on  botany,  entomol- 
ogy, ornithology,  and  allied  studies  as  almost  any 
professors  of  these  sciences  that  could  be  named  ;  yet 
it  was  in  the  woods  and  fields  rather  than  in  books  that 
he  acquired  his  knowledge." 

Gibson's  own  words,  in  the  preface  to  "Sharp 
Eyes,"  confirm  his  friend's  reflection:  "The  facts  in 
the  following  pages  are  almost  entirely  drawn  from  in- 
dividual experience,  largely  gathered  in  boyhood,  the 
apparently  random  selection  being  based  upon  a  de- 
sire for  the  greatest  variety  possible  within  a  limited 
range  of  the  minor  flora  and  fauna.  The  dates  are 
apportioned  from  careful  notes  verified  through  a 
record  of  many  years." 

It  was  this  close  and  personal  observation  of  nature 
which  gave  him  his  rare  power  in  drawing  and  in 
composition.  He  never  wished  to  make  his  pictures 
with  the  models,  the  objects  he  was  drawing,  before 
him.  He  studied  them  in  sketches,  and  mastered 
every  detail  of  their  construction  and  appearance. 
This  impression,  clear-cut,  exact,  truthful,  he  carried 
in  his  memory.  And  when  he  wished  to  draw  it,  he 
worked  from  memory,  refreshed,  perhaps,  by  the  mem- 
orandum of  the  sketch ;  but  his  picture  would  be  suf- 
fused by  the  glow  of  his  own  imagination,  idealized 


"  Wide-Awake  Day-Dozers  " 

("Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine") 
Copyright,  1800,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     179 

by  that  imperceptible  increment  which  is  merely  the 
self,  the  personal  temperament  of  the  artist,  lighting 
up  his  subject.  His  memory  furnished  the  anatomy 
of  his  subject,  and  his  imagination  infused  it  with  life. 
It  was  the  thing  as  it  was,  and  something  more.  Be- 
cause it  was  the  thing  as  he  saw  it.  His  view  of  the 
function  of  the  sketch,  and,  indeed,  his  theory  of  art, 
condensed  into  small  compass,  is  well  put  by  himself, 
in  a  paragraph  from  "The  Squirrel's  Highway": 

"Humility  is  the  only  attitude  that  wins  the  heart 
of  nature.  It  yields  the  glow  that  lights  the  vision  of 
the  'inward  eye,'  beside  which  all  other  eyes  are 
blind.  Audacity  and  impressionism  have  their  im- 
portance and  place  in  art,  but  they  are  not  its  pin- 
nacle ;  the  one  yields  helpful  courage  for  the  encounter, 
the  other  is  the  useful  short-hand  system  which  often 
comes  to  the  artist's  rescue,  and  without  whose  aid 
many  of  nature's  most  rare  and  subtle  expressions 
would  elude  him,  and  be  lost.  But  its  function  is 
realized  in  the  sketch  or  motive,  which  is  rarely  a 
picture,  but  more  often  a  rough  draft,  a  hieroglyph,  a 
stenographic  note,  which  like  others  of  its  class  is 
fully  intelligible  alone  to  its  author,  and  whose  only 
rational  excuse  for  being  is  in  its  latent  possibilities  of 
ultimate  translation  and  perfection." 

That  was  the  method  of  the  artist  ;  and  it  grew  natu- 
rally and  logically  from  the  nature  of  the  man.  He 
agreed  at  bottom  with  the  impressionists,  because 


i8o        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

he  painted  and  drew  only  what  he  saw.  His  point  of 
difference  with  them  was  that  he  painted  and  drew 
far  more  than  they  would  sanction,  because  he  saw 
so  much  more.  If  the  canon  of  the  impressionists  is 
admitted,  they  must  be  prepared  frequently  to  see  it 
apparently  violated  by  some  man  who,  while  painting 
only  what  he  actually  sees,  and  getting  "broad 
effects"  and  "values,"  sees  so  much  more  than  the 
average  observer,  and  notes  as  "values"  so  many 
things  which  even  the  ordinary  trained  eye  slips  over 
as  insignificant,  that  he  seems  to  be  "  descending"  to 
details.  Gibson  could  never  have  painted  to  suit  this 
class,  because  he  saw  and  felt  so  much  more  than 
they  did.  Yet  he  was  as  true  as  the  most  orthodox 
of  them  to  the  very  method  he  seemed  to  defy.  He 
had  been  speaking  ("  Highways  and  Byways,"  p.  68) 
of  the  seed-pods  of  the  fireweed,  and  their  hidden 
floss,  "  a  warp  of  woven  sunshine,  with  a  woof  of 
ether,"  and  reasons  thus  about  it  : 

"It  is  always  awe-inspiring  and  wonderful  to  me  ; 
it  is  beautiful  beyond  description  ;  and  when  I  see 
those  snowy  forms  take  wing  and  fly  heavenward,  it 
is  more  than  beautiful,  it  is  divine.  And  yet  it  would 
seem  that  there  are  those  among  her  students  who  are 
above  the  influence  of  such  a  revelation  as  this  in  Nature. 
Disciples  of  a  rampant  superficial  school  of  art,  who  in 
seeking  to  portray  Nature  '  in  her  breadth '  would  feel 
that  they  can  put  the  straight  jacket  upon  her  and 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     181 

readily  ignore  so  small  and  trivial  a  thing  as  this.  The 
landscape  to  their  half-blind  and  unsympathetic  eyes 
resolves  itself  into  a  map,  a  relative  opposition  of  so 
many  'masses'  and  'values'  of  form  and  color.  In 
the  mastery  of  these  lies  their  end  and  aim  while 
Nature  in  her  '  detail '  is  worthy  only  of  the  scientist 
and  'has  no  place  in  art.' 

"That  Nature's  landscape  does,  to  those  who  seek 
therefor,  resolve  itself  into  so-called  masses  and  values, 
is  an  important  truth  ;  but  equally  and  more  deeply 
true  are  the  infinity  and  spirit  of  her  breadth.  The 
value  of  the  broad  gray  mass  of  yonder  sloping  meadow 
will  find  its  truest  interpreter  (assuming  an  equality  of 
technical  skill)  in  him  who  knows  by  heart  its  elements 
of  life  and  color,  who  has  seen  its  '  violet  by  a  mossy 
stone,'  who  has  plucked  its  grasses  from  their  purple 
maze  and  knows  the  scent  of  those  endless  subtle 
variations  of  tender  russets,  greys,  and  greens,  and 
cloudy  films  of  smoky  color  that  spread  among  its 
herbage.  The  true  significance  and  '  value '  of  that 
massive  bank  of  oaks  will  be  most  deeply  felt  and 
understood,  and  therefore  most  truly  rendered,  by  him 
who  has  learned  the  beauty  of  its  vernal  buds  of  scar- 
let velvet,  its  swinging  catkins,  and  the  contour  of  its 
perfect  leaf  ;  who  has  stood  beside  its  boughs,  and 
seen  the  blue  of  sky  and  gray  of  passing  cloud  in  turn 
reflected  from  the  polished  foliage. 


182         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"The  impress  of  that  knowledge  and  the  sympathy 
and  companionship  it  implies  will  send  its  impulse 
quivering  to  his  brush-tip,  in  a  spontaneous  enthusiasm 
that  shall  subdue  the  pigment  to  a  medium  for  thought, 
and  shall  hold  it  in  its  place  as  the  means  rather  than 
the  end.  And  while  the  misguided  apostle  of  the  new 
school  who  shows  us  'Nature  in  her  breadth'  shall 
revel  in  his  values  of  turpentine,  and  paint  and  brush- 
marks,  the  transcript  of  his  more  humble  brother- 
worker,  while  not  less  broad,  shall  palpitate  with  life 
and  feeling,  and  through  some  secret  intangible  testi- 
mony of  its  own,  shall  conjure  up  in  the  beholder  the 
heart-memories  of  Nature,  and  shall  breathe  her  spirit 
from  the  canvas." 

Perhaps  it  is  worth  while  just  here  to  rescue  from 
oblivion  the  exceedingly  funny  account  of  some  news- 
paper writer,  whose  story  of  Mr.  Gibson's  methods  is 
widely  at  variance  with  that  we  are  telling,  and  what 
Gibson  himself  told,  but  which  has  a  certain  weird 
charm  of  its  own.  Commenting  upon  the  "marvel- 
ous skill "  ascribed  to  Gibson,  he  proceeds  to  say  that 
nothing  could  be  simpler  than  his  method.  "When 
Mr.  Gibson  sets  out  on  a  walk  he  always  takes  a  camera 
with  him,  and  when  an  especially  interesting  twig  or 
fern  attracts  his  attention,  he  promptly  snaps  at  it. 
On  his  return  home  the  plates  are  sent  to  the  nearest 
photographer  to  be  developed  and  from  the  negatives 
thus  obtained,  '  bleach  prints '  are  made.  Mr.  Gibson 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     183 

then  proceeds  to  draw  very  carefully  on  these  prints, 
following  of  course  the  outline,  shading,  etc.,  of  the 
photograph.  After  the  drawings  are  finished,  all  traces 
of  the  photograph  are  quickly  bleached  out  by  immers- 
ing them  in  a  simple  solution  of  chemicals,  leaving  only 
the  drawings  on  white  paper."  After  such  a  graphic 
and  veracious  account  of  the  way  in  which  the  fore- 
most American  illustrator  made  his  pictures,  one  is  not 
surprised  to  have  the  writer  add  the  brave  statement 
that  ''it  may  be  said  without  fear  of  contradiction  that 
whatever  excellence  may  exist  in  Mr.  Gibson's  pub- 
lished work,  is  due  to  the  careful  work  of  the  photog- 
rapher and  the  engraver."  Such  is  the  sort  of  stuff 
which  some  metropolitan  newspapers  serve  up  as  "art 
criticism."  The  writer  might  indeed  declare  that  he 
spoke  without  fear  of  contradiction  ;  for  nobody  would 
take  the  trouble  to  contradict  an  account  so  ridiculous. 
How  refreshing,  after  such  a  tissue  of  absurdities,  to 
read  the  letter  of  Henry  Marsh,  foremost  among  the 
wood-engravers  of  his  day,  the  estimate,  by  a  real 
artist,  of  another  artist : 

"  POMFRET  CENTRE,  CONN.,  March  8th. 

1 ' DEAR  SIR: 

"  Pressure  of  work  has  prevented  me  from  answer- 
ing yours  of  Jan.  ist.  I  did  not  see  an  impression  of 
the  *  chick  a  dee  dee'  block  and  was  surprised  to  find 
it  was  in  any  degree  successful.  I  have  never  even 


1 84        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

seen  a  drawing  of  yours  till  now  and  have  never  had 
any  idea  of  your  artistic  quality.  Common  printed 
impressions  of  course  represent  no  one  fairly,  but 
those  artists  lose  the  most  who  have  the  most  to  lose, 
and  you  are  no  exception  to  the  rule,  as  I  should  never 
have  guessed  what  your  drawings  looked  like  from 
anything  I  ever  have  seen  printed.  You  will  certainly 
be  disappointed  in  my  rendering  of  your  work,  for 
I  have  no  patience  and  my  hand  is  not  as  firm  or  my 
line  as  delicate  as  your  drawings  require,  but  if  you 
send  me  a  block  I  shall  do  it  honestly  after  my  fashion. 
With  hearty  sympathy  in  the  troubles  which  you 
must  always  find  in  the  engraving  of  your  most  ele- 
gant and  refined  work,  I  remain 

"  Yours  truly, 

"HENRY  MARSH." 

Thackeray  somewhere  says  that  there  are  no  people 
who  so  love  their  work  as  the  artists  do,  unless  it  be 
the  actors,  who  when  they  are  not  playing  them- 
selves are  always  at  the  theater.  Even  the  holiday  of 
the  artist  is  generally  devoted  to  work  in  a  different 
locality  from  the  home  studio;  so  that  it  amounts  to 
nothing  more  than  a  change  of  scene  without  any 
abatement  of  business.  Gibson  himself  was  one  of 
the  worst  offenders  in  this  way.  He  never  seemed  to 
rest,  while  in  health,  save  in  and  by  a  change  in  the 
place  and  character  of  his  task.  In  the  pages  of 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     185 

"Pastoral  Days,"  in  which  he  describes  —  in  the 
chapter  upon  "Summer" — his  visit  to  "Hometown 
and  Snug-Hamlet,"  he  confesses  his  propensity  for 
thus  using  his  vacation. 

"My  wife  and  I  have  run  away  from  the  city  for 
a  month  or  so.  A  vacation  we  call  it;  but  to  an  artist 
such  a  thing  is  rarely  known  in  its  ordinary  sense,  and 
often,  indeed,  it  means  an  increase  of  labor,  rather 
than  a  respite.  My  first  week,  however,  I  had  con- 
secrated to  luxurious  idleness.  Together  we  wan- 
dered through  the  old  familiar  rambles,  where  as  boy 
and  girl  in  earlier  days  we  had  been  so  oft  together." 
But  the  sort  of  thing  which  he  calls  idling  comes  out 
a  few  pages  later,  when  he  sums  up  the  doings  of 
that  seven  days  of  luxury. 

"  For  a  week  thus  we  idled,  now  on  the  mountain, 
now  in  the  meadow,  while  I  with  my  sketch-book 
and  collecting-box  either  whiled  away  the  hours  with 
my  pencil,  or  left  the  unfinished  work  to  pursue  the 
tantalizing  butterfly  or  search  for  unsuspecting  cater- 
pillars among  the  weeds  and  bushes."  What  a  busy- 
body was  this,  who  knew  no  distinction  between 
work  and  play,  and  to  whom  the  sketch-book  and 
collecting-box  were  the  playthings  of  the  idle  hour  as 
well  as  the  tools  of  the  most  laborious  of  professions! 
Well  might  the  companion  of  that  happy  summer  say 
in  after  years,  "He  seemed  never  to  spend  an  idle 
hour."  Another  member  of  his  household  circle  bears 


1 86        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

similar  testimony.  "1C  he  were  sitting  at  the  table, 
chatting  and  joking  with  us,  as  likely  as  not  he  would 
have  his  pencil  in  his  hand,  and  before  we  knew  it, 
would  dash  off  on  any  scrap  of  paper,  some  sketch  of 
a  beetle,  or  a  bird,  or  a  butterfly,  or  perhaps  a  carica- 
ture of  somebody  in  the  group."  With  this  nature, 
steam  was  always  up,  and  the  fires  hardly  banked  at 
all.  No  wonder  that  the  machinery  literally  wore  out 
prematurely. 

There  is  one  legacy  of  his  busy  life  which  seems 
to  have  a  special  interest  to  those  who  loved  his 
work  and  care  to  know  how  he  did  it.  For  many 
years  he  carried  in  his  mind  a  plan  for  a  new 
work,  which  was  characteristic  of  his  genius,  and 
would  have  added  a  new  delight  to  those  he  had  con- 
ferred. He  meant  some  day  to  write  and  to  illustrate 
a  book  which  should  describe  the  history  of  the  end- 
less movement  of  water,  from  cloud  to  mountain-top, 
from  the  heights  to  the  valleys,  from  the  valleys  to 
the  sea,  and  back  to  the  clouds  again.  He  had  made 
many  notes  and  references,  and  the  scheme  was  well 
worked  out  in  its  general  features.  The  memoranda 
which  he  left  are  sufficiently  full  to  convey  a  clear  idea 
of  what  he  proposed;  and  as  one  reads  them  they 
seem  to  suggest  all  the  graceful  text  and  the  graphic 
illustration  with  which  his  matured  skill  would  have 
filled  them  out.  While  they  raise  the  keenest  disap- 
pointment in  the  thought  that  they  never  were  com- 


The  Workman  and  his  Work      187 

pleted  and  that  American  literature  and  nature-study 
have  missed  what  they  promised,  yet  they  are  so  full 
of  hints,  so  stimulating  to  the  imagination,  that  they 
seem  to  belong  to  that  public  for  which  he  wrought, 
and  which  prizes  every  thought  of  his  fertile  mind. 

On  the  fly-leaf  of  the  blank-book  in  which  these 
notes  are  entered,  with  long  blanks  for  the  material 
yet  to  be  written  in,  he  has  written  the  words 
"  Memoranda;  Cycle  of  the  Raindrop."  On  the  next 
page  follow  a  number  of  tentative  titles: 

"  From  the  Fountain  to  the  Deep  Sea. 

"The  Cycle  of  the  Raindrop. 

"  From  the  Rain  Cloud  to  the  Sea. 

"  A  Mission  of 

"A  Cycle  of 

"The  Emblematic  Cycle.  Typical  of  human  life. 
Soul  from  heaven.  Earthly  pilgrimage  :  dross  and 
impurity  and  final  resurrection  in  mist." 

"An  Eternal  Pilgrimage 

"A Pilgrimage 

"  The  Story  without  an  End. 

Then  follows  a  suggestion  for  a  table  of  contents. 

He  heads  it, 

Division  of  Subject 

"i.  The  Rain  Cloud  and  the  Fountain.  '  Story  of 
a  Fountain.' 

"2.  The  Mountain  Brook— (Trout  Brook)  (Trout 
Stream). 


1 88        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"3.  The  Mountain  Lake.     The  Swamp. 

"4.  The  Pastoral  Brook.     The  Pond  ? 

"5.  The  River. 

"6.  The  Delta  and  the  Deep  Sea." 

This  is  the  first  and  broadest  sketch.  Upon  this 
ground  plan  he  proceeds  to  lay  out  the  themes  he 
would  treat,  evidently  having  in  mind  both  text  and 
illustrations.  Sometimes  the  note  means  one,  some- 
times the  other.  And  the  closeness  with  which  the 
two  are  associated  in  his  mind  is  a  fine  revelation  of 
the  manner  in  which  his  thought  embraced  both  forms 
of  production  in  a  profound  psychological  unity. 

/.    The  Rain  Cloud  and  Spring 

The  birth  of  the  spring  ;  from  perpetual  snow  on 
mountain  peaks;  dew;  mist  and  cloud;  storm  cloud. 

Rain  Cloud  dragging  its  veil  on  mountain-top.  (See 
quotation  from  Ruskin  in  note-book).  Poetic  simile 
of  mountain  "  Light  of  Asia "  (227).  Storm  on 
mountain. 

Hovering  Mist  and  Cloud.  Lifting  and  creeping  in 
fantastic  forms,  above  the  lake.  Wild  Mountain 
Pass.  Hermit's  Ravine.  See  reference.  Ruskin  in 
literary  memorandum.  Shelley's  " Cloud." 

Mountain  Veterans.     Gnarled  spruces. 

Mountain  Flowers.  The  heath  family,  clothing  the 
rugged  mountains. 

Mountain  Fruits.     "  Propitiating  the  Mountain-gods 


' 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     189 

by  a  sacrifice  of  their  fruits."     Thoreau.     Supper  of 
blue-berries.     Thoreau. 

The  Trickling  Mountain  Spring.     "Amy's  Grotto." 

A  Dewdrop  on  leaf  (vignette-idea  ;  or  tail-piece). 

Primeval  Elements.  Indian  Legends,  etc.  Story  of  a 
Fountain.  Primeval  spring  and  incident.  Hawthorne. 

A  Trickling  Passage.  Drops  trickling  down  a  spray 
of  Fumitory  (Adlumia)  over  rock. 

A  Recluse.     A  shy  wood  flower. 

Indian  Pipe — legend  ? 

Loiterings  among  mossy  boulders  and  ferns. 

The  Wood-bird's  Bath. 

The  Harebell. 

A  Fungus.  Some  beautiful  specimen  of  Hydnum 
Agaricum  or — 

Through  the  Mossy  Groove  (bole) — to  the  old 
Trough. 

Water  Trough.  This  subject  must  come  in  book. 
Make  view  from  above  conduit,  and  looking  out 
through  verdure  upon  road  from  back  of  trough.  See 
Hawthorne's  "Town  Pump."  "David  Swan." 

Waste  Water  Running  along  road  and  under. 
Plank  Bridge  (with  roadside  ford)  bordered  with  tall 
Galingales,  Cat-tails  etc. 

The  Meadow  Stream  (place  after  mountain-lake  ?) 

The  Meadow  Rue  (shadow  or  silhouette). 

Sensitive  Fern  (one  of  the  most  antiquated  forms 
of  existing  ferns). 


190        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Cardinal  Flower. 

A  Border  Tangle.     Galium.     Rue. 

Coils  of  Gold.  The  Jewel-weed  (or  some  other 
plant).  Strangled  by  the  golden  dodder.  The  dodder 
is  mentioned  in  Lowell's  "Threnodia  "  as  an  emblem 
of  love.  It  is  a  questionable  sort  of  love  that  hangs 
on  by  the  teeth.  " Deadly  gripe  of  gold  "(Haw- 
thorne). 

Hemlock  cones  and  Chickadees. 

An  Ambuscade.     Leaf-nest  of  large  Arachnid. 

The  Alders. 

Gathering  Cowslip-greens  (combine  with  picture 
of  plant). 

The  Trout  Brook 

The  Angler.  (Consult  Izaak  Walton.  "Contem- 
plative Man's  Recreation.") 

Beauties  (good  subject  for  tail-piece). 

The  Water-mill.  Children  playing  with  toy-wheel. 
See  sketch  made  at  Cumberland,  Me. 

A  Trickling  Flume.  A  mossy  flume  perched  on  tall 
beams,  embowered  in  leafy  branches  and  overgrown 
with  weeds.  See  photo,  and  sketch  of  "Haunted 
Mill "  with  mill  in  distance. 

The  Sawmill  (combine  cider-mill  with  same  ? 
Washington). 

"Highland  Stream  tamed  by  human  cunning." 
Hawthorne. 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     19 l 

Riding  on  Sawmill  Carry.  Children  riding  out  over 
abyss  on  the  log-carry. 

Under  the  Mill  (old  wheel,  etc.). 

Sheepwashing. 

Life  under  the  Water.  (Crawfish;  leopard-frog, 
etc.)  Under  the  Water.  Battle  of  dragon-fly  and 
lizard.  Caddis-worms  and  nests. 

The  Slender  Foot-bridge — "Dangerous  passage." 
Bubby  fishing;  three  or  four  minnows  on  string. 
Lovers. 

The  Witch  Hazel.  (Several  subjects.  See  memo- 
randa in  "  Nature  Jottings.")  Unfurling  banners  and 
saluting  coming  snow.  The  Divining  Rod.  Old 
Witch.  Witch  hazel;  (see  Whittier's  Poem,  Preface 
or  dedication  ?)  Shrub  over  Brook.  Peculiar  Qual- 
ity of  perfume.  Horizontal  Foliage  in  Wood.  Ref- 
erence in  Hawthorne. 

Into  the  Lake.  Cascade  over  precipice  into  Lake. 
Boating  and  fishing. 

The  Camp.     (Adirondacks.     See  sketch.) 

Morning  on  the  Lake  (Water-color  sketch,  deer 
drinking). 

Evening.  Hunting  with  jack.  (Dudley  Warner's 
"Deer  hunt.")  "The  Loon's  weird  laughter,  far 
away." 

The  Rise.  Trout  rising;  flash  of  sun  on  still  water. 
"Long  ripple."  Thoreau. 

Guide  Lore. 


192        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Sand  Orchid.  Secret  of  fertilization.  Lovell's  Pond, 
several  varieties 

Pond  Lilies  ?  (or  on  brook  ?)  Yellow  pond  lilies. 
Hawthorne's  simile. 

The  Water  Mussel.  Beautiful  pearl.  Saranac 
lake.  Wondrous  tints  brought  out  by  scouring  with 
sand. 

Tiger-beetles  on  Sand.     (Show  nests.) 

Heron's  Nest  (see  cut  in  Harper's).  Evening  Subject. 
Weird  Effect. 

The  Plover. 

Evening  Mist.  Mist  rising.  Returning  skyward. 
Sun  drawing  water. 

Wild  Ducks. 

The  Bittern.     "His  precious  legs."    Thoreau. 

Water  Adder.  (Winnepesaukee  incident,  see  note- 
book "Nature  Jottings.") 

The  Outlet.     A  Chasm.     "  Ausable  Chasm." 

The  Brook  (Shepaug?) 

The  Water-fence. 

A  Hot  Day  (cows  in  water  in  shade). 

Under  the  Water.  Caddis  Worms  in  nest.  (Life 
under  ice.  Thoreau.)  Dragon-fly  larvae. 

Battle  under  Water.  "No  refuge  e'en  in  water." 
Lizard  and  dragon-fly  larva.  Aquarium  incident. 

Scouring  Rush  (grass)  gatherers.     See  quotations. 

The  Little  Sandpipers. 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     193 

Ephemera.  (The  creatures  of  an  hour.  The  twilight 
flight.) 

The  Crossing  Pole  (Newtown  brook.  Children 
over  dark  still  current). 

The  Swimming  Hole.  (Bathers.  Twilight  effect. 
Interrupted  Bath.) 

The  Old  Bridge. 

On  the  Muddy  Beam  (Phebe  nest  or  other  bird). 

A  Gravel  Island.  (Thoreau's  sentiments  on  behold- 
ing an  island.) 

A  Pebbly  Beach. 

A  Still  Nook  in  Shore.     Gnats  emerging.     Boats  of 

Eggs- 

A  Sungleam  from  the  River  bed.  Minnow  or  Sun- 
fish  turning.  Combine  same  with  Kingfisher,  if  pos- 
sible, showing  the  incident  of  prey  from  the  fish's 
standpoint,  under  water  looking  out  above.  Consult 
Thoreau's  "Concord  River"  and  his  experiences  in 
taming  the  fish. 

The  Willows.  The  Closed  Gentian.  The  Button- 
bush. 

Sailing  the  Boat. 

The  Kingfisher  (watching  for  the  gleam). 

A  Bit  of  Sentiment.  Two  figures  by  the  brink; 
thoughts  of  brook,  etc.  Similes. 

The  Freshet.  Broken  Dam.  Ice  Blockade.  Ice 
piling  and  crushing  against  mill. 

A  Tumultuous  Record.    Water  sculpture.     Torrent 
13 


194        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

making  holes  in  rocks.     Worn  by  boulders.     Diana's 
Baths,  Shepaug  Falls.    Glassy  Ice  on  Dripping  Twigs. 

The  Swamp 

(This  section  should  be  introduced  here  as  a  "  loiter- 
ing-place  "  of  the  saunterer  as  well  as  of  the  brook, — 
a  rest  in  the  journey  of  the  waters  when  they  linger 
placidly  in  the  old  mill-pond,  backing-up  from  the 
dam,  and  flooding  the  lowlands.  Although  it  might  be 
brought  in  between  the  mountain-lake  and  the  brook.) 

Consider  the  Black  Mountain  Swamp  for  example; 
Beaver  dam,  Lenox.  Cotton  sedge;  Sarracenia;  Pond 
lilies;  Sphagnum. 

A  Quaint  Cradle.  Nest  of  Reed  Warbler  or  other 
bird  built  among  reeds  or  rushes. 

Musk-rat  Huts.  A  Musquash  Village.  Muskrat's 
bubble  under  the  ice,  driven  away  from  its  heath. 
See  "  Trapper  " ;  also  Thoreau.  The  provident  musk- 
rat. 

Scouts.     Spring  Heralds.     Skunk  cabbage. 

Winter  Botany.  Crystalline  Botany ;  Thoreau. 
It  is  the  anatomy  which  determines  the  marked 
character  and  distinct  individuality  of  plants,  even  of 
the  same  genus.  The  winter  phantoms  present  its 
most  perfect  and  unencumbered  articulation,  and 
render  their  forms  against  the  snow  especially  con- 
spicuous. Thus  have  I  counted,  without  effort,  eight 
species  of  golden-rod,  growing  in  a  tangle  each  as 


The  Workman  and  his  Work      195 

distinctly  specific  as  in  its  summer  dress  and  orna- 
ment. 

A  Frost  Grotto. 

Will  o'  the  Wisp.  A  fantasy  with  fairies,  nymphs, 
or  naiads. 

Haunt  of  the  Hylas. 

Cranberry  Culture.     The  Cranberry  plant. 

After  Bullfrogs.  Spatter  Dock,  turtles,  etc. ;  turtles 
on  a  projecting  log  or  rock,  family  group.  Pollywogs. 
Duckweed.  Specimen  of  similar  plant.  Green  shell- 
like,  nerve-like  leaf,  floating  on  surface  and  sending 
downward  a  fringe  of  purplish  black  rootlets.  Found 
at  Washington,  spring  of  1882. 

A  Living  Opal.  A  fairy  creature  of  the  marsh. 
This  is  described  in  my  note-book  about  two  years 
ago,  and  I  note  that  Mr.  John  Burroughs  has  dis- 
covered the  same  creature  and  has  written  of  it  under 
title  "A  Fairy,"  in  Scribner's,  January,  1883. 

Pickerel  Weed  and  Pickerel. 

Vallisneria — Anacharsis ;  waterweed. 

Swamp  plants  for  selection.  (Here  follows  a  list  of 
some  twenty  plants.) 

Transformation  of  Neuroptera. 

Exquisite  Bivalves  in  the  mud  (small  pearly  clams). 

The  Brook  (Continued) 

The  Millpond. 

The  Water  adder  (see  notes  Lake  Winnepesaukee). 


196        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Nymphae  ;  maids  of  the  pond  (nymphs  floating  in 
mist  above  the  floating  lilies.  See  John  Lafarge, 
portfolio  proofs). 

Among  the  Pond-lilies.  The  Lotus-lily  with  cup 
capsule.  Allied  to  Eastern  lily.  Suggestion  of  the  Nile. 

Mirror  of  the  Sunset.  (Reflections.  Still  pond. 
Mill  dam.) 

The  Heron. 

Winter  Sports  on  the  Ice.  Fishing.  Harvesting 
the  Ice-crop.  Waiting  for  a  Bite  (comic  character). 
(See  Wordsworth  "To  win  a  pittance  from  the  cold, 
unfeeling  lake.") 

The  Grist-Mill.  The  Miller.  (A  character  from 
life  ;  Standing  at  window  of  mill  door.  "The  mills 
of  the  gods." 

Under  the  Fall.  (Foam.  Bubbles  that  reflect  the 
glories  of  the  world.) 

Swallows.  (Skimming  over  water.  "Swallows 
skating  on  the  air.") 

Below  the  Dam.  The  Ripples.  The  marriage  of 
the  Waters;  (see  Poem,  Burns).  The  Camp.  Shad- 
fishing. 

The  River 

The  Osprey.  (Rising  with  fish.  Tumult  of  water. 
Bald  eagle  and  catfish,  incident,  Cape  Cod.)  See 
Wolfs  "Wild  Animals." 

The  Canoe  (modern  and  Indian). 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     197 

The  Toll  Bridge.  (Old  covered  bridge  in  spans.) 
Bennett's  Bridge.  Glimpse  out  from  openings  of  bridge. 

The  Toll-man's  daughter.  (Pathos.  Dragging  the 
River.  The  white  face  among  the  lily- pads.) 

Drifting.     (Sentiment.) 

Spearing  Fish  by  night. 

Drawing  the  Seine. 

The  Rope  Ferry.     (North  Hampton.) 

Calling  the  Ferry  in  "ye  olden  tyme."  (The 
swarthy  boatman.  The  Ferryman's  Cottage.  Interior 
of  Cottage.) 

Cascade  and  Factories.     (Moonlight.) 

Through  a  Large  Manufacturing  Town. 

Picturesque  Factories. 

Approach  to  Salt  Water.  (Stooping  from  boat  to 
drink  from  the  river, — brackish  water  !  This  and  the 
presence  of  the  mallows  which  had  escaped  our  notice, 
betoken  the  inroads  of  the  sea.) 

Rest  this  section  herewith. 

The  Delta  and  the  Deep  Sea 

Navigation.  (Scene  on  Hudson,  or  Connecticut,  or 
Mississippi.  Barges.  Twilight  from  ferry-boat ; 
(further  on  ?) 

Snipe  Shooting. 

Wild  Ducks.  (Chesapeake  Bay.  Clouds  of  duck, 
— and  hunters.) 

Salt  Marshes.  (Gathering  Salt  hay.  See  Sound 
sketches.  "  Picturesque  America.") 


198        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Crab-fishing.     (Sheepshead  Bay.) 

Low  Tide  on  Marsh.  (Fiddler  crabs,  playing  about 
holes.) 

From  the  edge  of  the  Boat.  (A  natural  aquarium. 
Hermit  Crabs,  fishes,  mussels,  algae.) 

Samphire  gatherers.  (See  Hawthorne.  Footprints 
on  Seashore.  Samphire  luncheon.) 

The  Prickly  Opuntia.  (Allude  to  the  wondrous 
caress  of  the  stamina.  A  beautiful  cactus,  common  on 
our  shores,  yet  quite  unknown.) 

Fisherman's  Huts.  (Quaint  houses  made  of  canal- 
boats.  Half  canal-boat,  set  up  on  end.  See  studio 
prints.) 

Gathering  Sea-weeds. 

A  Nursling  of  the  Sea.  (Beautiful  floating  Laminaria.) 

The  Throng  at  the  Surf.  (Coney  Island  or  Rock- 
away.) 

Oyster-dredging.  (Water  in  action — picturesque 
boat.) 

Among  the  Driftwood.    Eggs  of  shark  or  skate. 

Wind- waves  on  Sand.    (Original  explanation.) 

Sand  Yellow-Jackets  digging  caves  in  sand. 

Sand-spider.  Gossamer  tunnel.  Fierce  maternal 
solicitude. 

Fairy  Circles  in  Sand  (around  bending  grasses.) 

Faint  Columns  of  Gnats  in  still  twilight  rising  like 
streaks  of  smoke  from  salt-marshes. 

A  Marsh  nest. 


The  Workman  and  his  Work     199 

Gulls. 

Tiger  Beetles  and  holes. 

Under  the  Water. 

Rocky  Headland.     (Mt.  Desert,  Nahant.) 

The  Sporting  Shoal.     Porpoises. 

The  Vasty  Deep.     Limitless  Mid-ocean. 

The  Return  of  the  Waters.  Waterspout.  Earth  and 
Heaven.  Finis.  A  link  completing  the  cycle.  Tail- 
piece. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  PERSONAL  SIDE 

THERE  is  a  curious  notice  of  Gibson's  work,  written 
for  a  leading  New  York  publication  in  1882, 
which  is  calculated  to  fill  the  minds  of  his  friends  with 
wonder,  not  unmingled  with  amusement.  The  writer 
attempts  a  portrait  of  Gibson's  soul,  and  does  it,  as 
the  Irishman  made  his  chopping-block,  "out  of  his 
own  head."  "In  some  way,"  he  (or  she)  says,  "Mr. 
Gibson  has  never  classed  himself  in  our  mind  with 
the  profession  of  illustrators,  but  has  seemed  rather  to 
stand  apart,  to  work  in  his  own  ways,  to  avoid  associ- 
ation, to  prefer  lonely  walks,  to  follow  his  own  bent, 
no  matter  where  it  leads,  and  irrespective  of  any  who 
come  after  him.  These  impressions  have  given  a 
certain  solitariness  to  his  figure,  so  that  we  fancy  him 
wandering  alone  up  and  down  the  earth,  a  man  of 
silence,  a  man  of  keen  and  penetrating  eye,  of  ear 
attent,  of  swiftly  susceptible  feelings,  who  searches 
out  nature  in  her  recesses,  and  coyest  moods,  is  on 
the  friendliest  terms  with  her,  to  whose  delicate  touch 
she  lends  herself  with  an  indulgence  which  coarser 
lovers  are  denied  "  !  That  extraordinary  sketch  of  the 
personality  of  the  man  is  a  most  felicitous  antithesis  of 

200 


The  Personal  Side  201 

the  real  Gibson.  It  happily  describes  what  he  was 
not.  It  is  a  capital  portrait  of  somebody  else.  Just 
where  the  writer  got  his  materials  for  such  a  descrip- 
tion, it  would  be  hard  to  tell.  Certainly  not  from 
personal  contact  with  the  subject.  It  sounds  like  a 
far-off  account  of  Thoreau;  as  if  he  had  been  taken  as 
the  likeliest  type  of  a  thoroughgoing  nature  lover, 
and  the  lines  drawn  after  the  similitude  of  his  strange 
nature.  But  it  would  be  hard  to  find  two  men  in 
more  total  contrast  than  Thoreau  and  Gibson.  The 
former  may  have  loved  "to  stand  apart,  to  work  in 
his  own  ways,  to  avoid  association,  to  prefer  lonely 
walks."  But  the  latter  loved  to  touch  elbows  with 
his  fellow-men;  to  cultivate  friendships  and  share  the 
joys  of  society;  to  walk  with  a  company  of  congenial 
spirits,  from  whom  he  was  always  learning  something, 
unless  they  were  those  to  whom  he  could  always 
teach  something.  He  was  not  the  least  bit  of  a  re- 
cluse. A  hermitage  would  have  had  no  charms  for 
him.  For  he  was,  in  the  highest  sense,  "a  man  of 
the  world,"  who  loved  his  kind,  and  loved  to  live 
with  them.  There  was  no  "solitariness  "  about  him. 
He  was  eminently  social.  So  far  was  he  from  "  wan- 
dering alone  up  and  down  the  world,"  that  he  always 
drew  a  crowd  about  him,  wherever  he  went.  He 
was  no  McGregor,  to  usurp  the  head  of  the  table; 
but  wherever  Gibson  was,  there  was  the  center  of  the 
circle.  And,  far  from  being  "a  man  of  silence,"  he 


202        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

was  the  freest  and  easiest  of  talkers,  accessible,  com_ 
municative,  as  genial  as  sunshine,  as  fluent  as  a  brook. 
The  nature  which  was  in  him  began  to  express 
itself  from  the  earliest  years.  In  his  school-days  he 
was  anything  but  the  shy,  retiring  child  which  would 
be  the  father  of  such  a  man  as  our  critic  described ; 
and  his  love  and  yearning  for  companionship  and  the 
expression  of  affection  come  out  in  almost  every  one 
of  his  juvenile  letters.  It  is  so  seldom  that  a  boy's 
letters  really  express  the  boy's  life  that  one  does  not 
feel  that  they  have  any  permanent  interest.  But  the 
boy  Gibson  wrote  letters  which  deserve  to  be  pre- 
served. They  are  as  quaint  as  if  they  were  fictitious. 
They  could  not  have  been  truer  to  life  if  they  had 
been  made  out  of  whole  cloth.  It  would  be  hard  to 
match  the  following,  written  when  he  was  twelve 
years  old,  from  the  "Gunnery";  its  quaint  and  naive 
boyishness  is  delicious : 

"  WASHINGTON,  March  i,  1863. 

"DEAR  MOTHER  : 

"  I  received  your  letter  for  the  first  in  three  weeks 
and  was  as  happy  as  a  king  and  I  am  now.  you  may 
expect  a  letter  from  me  every  week. 

"Only  till  the  latter  part  of  this  month  before  the 
Exhibition,  and  then  comes  vacation  which  I  long  for 
very  much.  Every  Friday  the  boys  act  a  drama  ;  the 
last  one  was  'Love  in  '76,'  and  it  was  perfectly 


The  Personal  Side  203 

splendid  and  the  one  before  that  was  '  Romance 
under  Difficulties/  and  that  was  better  than  the  last. 
I  wish  you  could  send  me  up  some  small  dramas  be- 
cause I  would  like  to  read  them. 

"The  principal  thing  among  the  boys  is  catching 
mice  with  little  box  traps,  (like  the  one  that  Grandpa 
made  two  or  three  summers  ago)  which  we  make 
ourselves.  One  of  the  boys  took  some  hoopskirt  and 
made  a  cage  to  keep  his  mice  in  and  I  made  two  and 
have  got  four  traps.  The  boy  that  made  the  first  trap 
made  the  first  cage  and  he  is  a  very  ingenious  boy 
his  name  is  Charley  Howard  he  is  a  nice  boy  and  is 
liked  throughout  this  whole  great  institution  as  well 
as  the  other  boys  too. 

"It  is  a  very  unpleasant  day  first  in  the  morning 
it  snowed  and  next  it  rained  and  now  it  is  snowing 
again  and  looks  as  if  it  would  snow  a  long  while  it 
is  dark  dismal  and  foggy. 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  Cotty  has  so  many  boils,  be- 
cause I  can  imagine  how  they  feel  but  you  must  tell 
him  he  must  try  to  be  as  patient  as  Job  if  he  can.  The 
other  evening  I  touched  the  tip  end  of  my  nose  to  the 
stove  pipe  the  stove  pipe  being  hot  burnt  the  tip  of 
my  nose  off  so  now  everywhere  I  go  I  am  laughed 
at.  It  don't  hurt  me  any  to  be  laughed  at  if  they 
leave  my  nose  alone  that  is  all  I  ask. 

"  The  other  day  I  was  sliding  out  in  the  grove  on 
the  ice  and  I  slipped  and  fell  and  struck  on  my  sore 


204        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

knee  and  now  it  cracks  just  like  it  did  first,  only  it 
don't  hurt  me  so  much,  but  I  guess  I  will  get  over  it 
before  long.  I  am  known  in  this  school  by  the  name 
of  Fatty  and  Pussy  and  am  so  used  to  it  that  I  take  it 
as  my  own  name. 

"  Please  ask  Julie  and  Henry  if  they  think  that  they 
are  big  enough  to  read  letters,  and  if  they  say  yes  tell 
them  I  will  write  to  them  you  tell  me  in  your  next 
letter.  In  your  answer  let  Hubie  write  as  he  did  in 
one  of  your  letters. 

"  And  now  as  I  have  written  you  a  long  letter  I  will 
stop.  Sending  love  to  you  all  and  give  them  all  a  kiss 
for  me. 

"  From  your  aff.  Willie. 

"P.  S.     Excuse  bad  writing  as  I  have  a  sore  finger." 

The  same  winter  he  wrote  to  his  sister  ;  and  surely 
nothing  could  be  more  delightfully  artless  than  the 
patronizing  little  moral  harangue  with  which  the  letter 
begins  —  a  strain  which  ends  in  such  complacent  satis- 
faction over  his  own  success  as  a  good  boy !  It  must 
have  been  mightily  encouraging  to  the  little  girl.  But 
when  he  drops  into  narrative  and  gives  such  a  vivid 
account  of  his  skating  adventures,  one  begins  to  feel  the 
real  boy's  heart  again : 

"WASHINGTON,  Feb.  24,  1863. 

"DEAR  JULIE: 

"  I  guess  that  you  are  getting  to  be  a  great  big  girl 
by  this  time  and  I  hope  that  you  are  trying  to  be  a 


The  Personal  Side  205 

good  girl  too  and  that  you  are  trying  to  correct  all  your 
bad  habits.  I  am  trying  to  do  it  and  succeed  very  well. 
"I  will  now  tell  you  about  my  last  skate;  we  all 
started  at  half  past  nine  in  the  morning  and  went  to 
a  lake  warramaug  which  is  5  miles  from  Mr.  Gunn's 
house  I  walked  up  there  and  put  on  my  skates  and  off 
I  went  like  a  streak  of  blue  greased  lightning  and  the 
ice  was  as  smooth  as  glass  and  a  foot  thick  after  I 
skated  about  four  hours,  something  happened,  did 
the  ice  break,  No!  did  my  skate  break,  No!  My 
buckle,  NO!  the  clouds  broke  and  their  contents  were 
spilled  upon  the  earth  and  you  had  better  believe  that 
I  got  off  my  skates  and  put  for  home  with  my  legs  in 
my  boots.  It  was  a  snow  storm.  On  going  home  I 
summed  up  how  many  miles  I  had  been  that  day  and 
found  out  that  I  had  gone  on  my  own  legs  no  body 
else's  you  understand,  I  had  that  day  gone  20  miles, 
the  next  day  I  was  sick.  I  soon  got  over  it  and  was 

all  right  again. 

"  I  remain  your  aff.  Brother 

"Willie. 
"  Give  love  to  all  write  soon." 

Sometime  during  this  same  year  he  wrote  in  quite 
a  different  vein  to  his  mother.  He  shows  a  spirit 
"strenuous"  enough  to  suit  the  most  aggressive, 
and  as  tender  as  strenuous.  There  are  two  or  three 
points  of  school  ethics  which  appear  with  much 
force  in  his  account  of  the  trouble : 


206        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"The  other  night  a  few  of  the  boys  (Henry  and  I 
included)  were  playing  ' blind  man's  buff'  in  the 
kitchen,  and  I  was  it  and  one  of  the  boys  got  a  hand 
full  of  pepper  and  doused  it  in  Henry's  eyes,  of 
•course  Henry  cried  some,  but  you  could  n't  get  him  to 
tell  Mr.  Gunn  and  at  last  one  of  the  boys  Daniel  B. 
Gunn  told  Mr.  Gunn  and  he  called  him  in  there  and  sent 
all  the  other  boys  to  bed.  When  I  was  just  getting 
in  bed,  a  knock  came  at  my  door  and  I  opened  it  and 
there  stood  'Henry'  with  a  handkerchief  up  to  his 
face  a  crying  he  kissed  me  good  night  and  went  in 
his  room.  Pretty  soon  after  I  went  in  his  room  and 
he  was  still  crying  and  told  him  not  to  mind  it  but 
keep  a  wet  handkerchief  to  it  and  it  wouldn't  ache 
much,  so  he  did  so  and  he  felt  quite  comfortable.  I 
told  Ralph  (which  was  the  boy  that  did  it)  if  he  ever 
did  another  thing  of  the  kind  to  my  brother,  I  would 
knock  him  down,  and  I  think  I  ought  to.  If  I  had 
only  seen  Ralph  do  it  I  would  have  knocked  him  down 
on  the  spot  and  teach  him  to  mind  his  own  business. 

"According  to  Mr.  Gunn's  rules  '  Stick  up  for  your 
Brother '  and  I  mean  to  do  it. 

"  With  love  to  all,  I  remain  your  aff.  son. 

"WILLIE." 

Other  letters  written  in  these  delightful  school-days 
show  him  at  the  time  when  the  boy-mind  begins  to  re- 
alize the  importance  of  dress  and  of  personal  adornment. 


The  Personal  Side  207 

The  episode  of  the  diamond  pin  is  told  with  charac- 
teristic frankness  and  vivacity.  But  another  paragraph 
from  the  letter  shows  a  most  commendable  fond- 
ness for  his  old  hat — a  marked  evidence  of  the  genuine 
sentiment  of  the  boy's  nature.  The  description  of  the 
football  field  and  its  unfailing  perils  carries  a  contem- 
poraneous interest;  and  a  boy's  account  of  his  studies 
is  always  fascinating  reading.  The  brief  story  of  the 
prayer-meeting  in  "Willie  Beecher's"  room  and  his 
confidence  in  the  leader  who  "can  explain  about  any 
passage  in  the  Bible  "  must  close  these  glimpses  into 
the  real  heart  of  an  unspoiled  and  ingenuous  boy. 
They  are  a  key  to  his  nature, — its  frankness,  hearti- 
ness, enjoyment  of  simple  things,  a  self-confidence  that 
was  destined  to  help  him  touch  the  goal  of  a  great 
success,  singularly  combined  with  a  humility  which 
kept  him  always  open  to  reproof,  correction,  and  in- 
struction in  righteousness.  They  show  his  warm  and 
affectionate  nature,  which  never  changed  but  to  deepen 
and  sweeten  as  he  matured.  They  reveal  his  earnest- 
ness and  sincerity ;  traits  which  underlie  all  his  qualities 
like  the  bedrock  of  the  continent,  and  on  which  his 
fun  and  frolic  grew  as  naturally  as  grass  and  foliage 
out  of  the  soil  which  masks  and  clothes  the  granite: 

"  WASHINGTON,  CONN.,  May  21,  1864. 

"  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"  I  arrived  here  safely.  Meeting  Willie  B.  and  Bertie 
B.  &  Mary  Gunn  all  at  Newtown  in  the  cars.     We 


208        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

had  a  very  pleasant  time  coming  up  &  Mrs.  Gunn  was 
delighted  with  the  Tulips.  Everybody  noticed  my 
diamond  pin,  &  I  tell  you  what!!!!  They  praise  it 
up,  saying  &  asking  me  how  much  it  cost  ?  and 
having  me  stand  still,  so  that  they  might  see  it,  once 
in  a  while  I  do  stand  still  &  let  them  feast  their  eyes 
on  it.  Some  of  them  ask  me  if  it  is  glass  set  round 
with  Gutta  Percha  and  brass.  I  always  tell  them 
'yes  of  course.'  I  tell  you  what!!  I'm  proud  of  it  and 
will  keep  it  &  conform  to  your  rules.  I  wear  it  when- 
ever I  go  to  school  &  put  the  guard  on  my  shirt,  so  if 
the  tie  should  fall  of  it  would  be  held  on.  I  suppose 
you  remember  the  blue  tie  that  you  got  me.  I  wore 
it  up  from  N.  Y.  to  here,  &  my  rough  coat  rubbing 
against  it  made  it  look  awful,  bringing  out  all  the 
shoddy,  and  making  it  look  like  down  all  over  the  tie. 

"When  I  got  home  I  took  every  bit  of  the  white 
stuff  out  &  now  all  the  boys  think  it  looks  a  great 
deal  prettier.  Dear  Mother  I  want  to  tell  you  some- 
thing about  that  hat.  It  is  one  that  I  have  had  two 
winters,  and  I  like  it  because  it  is  so  old.  I  would  rather 
have  this  one  than  a  new  one,  and  the  other  is  not  fit  to 
wear  and  doesn't  fit  me,  so  Henry  may  have  a  new  one. 

"Mrs.  Gunn  thinks  that  I  ought  to  have  my  own  old 
hat.  And  she  is  going  to  try  and  have  the  other  one 
fixed  up  for  Henry. 

"  Here  I  must  stop,         I  am  your  affectionate  Son, 

"WILLIE." 


The  Personal  Side  209 

"WASHINGTON,  CONN., 

"Dec.  6,  1864. 

"My  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"  It  is  a  very  cold  day,  and  we  have  just  come  in 
from  out  doors.  We  all  have  been  playing  foot  ball 
Which  is  a  very  exciting  game  However  I  dont  play 
much  for  the  simple  reason,  that  I  am  too  short 
winded.  A  great  many  of  the  boys  get  their  shins 
kicked,  but  I  am  very  fortunate,  for  I  have  never  got 
mine  kicked  but  once  and  then  I  kicked  it  myself, 
when  I  meant  to  have  kicked  the  foot-ball.  At  all 
times  of  the  recess  you  can  look  about  the  green  and 
see  certain  boys  hopping  about  holding  one  leg  up, 
and  crying. 

"  This  year  I  study  a  great  many  lessons,  Latin, 
Anatomy,  Book-keeping,  Spelling,  &  Arithmetic. 
In  Latin,  I  get  along  nicely.  It  seems  a  great  deal 
easier  this  term  than  it  ever  has  yet.  In  Anatomy  I 
get  along  perfectly  splendid.  I  know  every  bone  in 
your  body  and  the  latin  (or  Scientific)  names  of  them 
all.  in  book-keeping  I  get  along  nicely.  In  Arith- 
metic I  am  in  square  root  and  I  understand  it  per- 
fectly. I  guess  that  if  Mr.  Gunn  writes  to  you,  he 
will  say  that  I  get  along  very  well  in  my  studies,  and 
you  can  tell  Father  so  too. 

"  I  suppose  that  he  thinks  that  I  idle  away  my  time 

writing  letters,     to  be  sure  I  do  write  a  great  many 
14 


210        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

letters,  but  I  don't  write  them  until  all  my  studies  are 
learned,  now  this  is  so.  And  while  a  person  is  away 
from  home  he  wants  to  hear  from  his  friends.  All 
the  boys  write  a  great  many  letters. 

"  Please  send  me  some  postage  stamps  in  your 
letter. 

"  Here  I  must  stop  with  love  to  all. 

"  I  remain  your  aff.  Son  WILLIE." 

"  WASHINGTON,  CONN., 

"Jan.  22,  1865. 

"My  DEAR  MOTHER: 

"Are  you  getting  better,  I  hope  so.  I  am  very 
anxious  about  you,  &  you  must  not  think  that  I  for- 
get you,  because  I  think  of  you  all  the  time,  and  pray 
for  you  every  night. 

"Willie  Beecher  has  a  prayer-meeting  in  his  room 
every  Saturday  night,  &  a  great  many  boys  attend. 
I  am  one  of  them,  and  I  am  liked  more  this  term  than 
any  yet.  Willie  is  superintendent  and  he  can  explain, 
about  any  passage  in  the  bible,  to  us,  so  that  we  can 
perfectly  understand  it." 

But  the  poor  boy  did  not  always  keep  his  lofty  and 
self-approving  mood.  Near  the  close  of  the  same 
year  he  had  occasion  to  realize  how  hard  it  is  to  tread 
the  right  line  of  virtue.  His  wrath  at  one  of  the  boys 
and  his  doings  got  the  better  of  his  good  feeling,  and 
he  vented  himself  in  some  strong  language  written  to 
one  of  the  boys  at  home.  This,  being  brought  to  his 


The  Personal  Side  211 

mother's  attention,  drew  down  a  sharp  reprimand, 
which  was  quite  effectual, — almost  too  effectual  one 
feels,  on  reading  dear  Mrs.  Gunn's  calm  and  wise 
view  of  it.  But  the  quick,  passionate  grief  of  the  re- 
pentant boy  shows  his  warm  and  wholesome  heart: 

"  WASHINGTON,  Dec.  yth,  1863. 

"DEAR  MOTHER  : 

"I  received  your  letter  and  with  repeated  sobs  heard 
Mrs.  Gunn  read  it  to  me.  I  am  very  sorry  for  what  I 
said  in  Frank's  letter  and  1  sincerely  promise  that  I  never 
will  commit  such  a  wrong  again.  And  do  please  for- 
give me  this  time  and  take  me  into  your  arms  again. 
Tell  Mrs.  Howard  if  you  see  her  that  I  am  very  sorry 
and  will  never  permit  such  a  thing  to  come  out  of  my 
mouth  again.  I  will  write  to  Frank  and  apoligize  for 
it.  And  I  don't  think  you  will  ever  reprove  me  of  such 
a  wrong  again. 

"With  much  love  I  remain  your  affectionate  Son 

"  WILLIE. 

"  He  that  calleth  his  brother  a  fool  is  in  danger  of 
hell  fire.  I  will  remember  this." 

When  this  letter  went  to  his  mother  Mrs.  Gunn 
sent  the  following  with  it. 

"  Wednesday  eve. 

"Mv  DEAR  MRS.  GIBSON  : 

"Willie  was  almost  heartbroken,  when  he  heard  your 
letter,  which  he  had  given  to  me  to  read  to  him,  with- 
out a  suspicion  of  its  contents.  He  went  immediately, 


212        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

without  prompting  from  any  one,  and  wrote  this  an- 
swer. I  am  glad  to  see  that  he  makes  no  attempt  to 
excuse  himself,  and  I  rejoice  that  the  'expression' 
came  so  soon  to  your  knowledge.  He  will  never  for- 
get the  lesson.  I  know  he  is  not  in  the  habit  of  using 
such  expressions,  and  cannot  account  for  his  having 
written  it.  I  think  he  does  not  quarrel  at  all  with 
Henry.  You  will  think  from  Henry's  letter  to  Juliet, 
that  he  is  suffering  from  homesickness,  but  he  seems 
perfectly  happy.  His  mother's  letter  made  him  long 
to  see  you  all  and  he  wrote  to  Juliet  immediately.  He 
and  Bertie  are  very  happy  together  and  he  is  getting 
on  nicely  now  with  all  the  boys.  At  first  he  used  to 
get  himself  into  trouble  constantly  by  calling  them 
names,  and  treating  them  as  I  suppose  he  had  been 
treated  by  village  boys  in  Newtown.  I  presume  it  was 
that  which  made  Willie  write  of  him  as  he  did,  as  he 
was  very  much  annoyed  by  it.  I  have  heard  nothing 
of  it  for  some  days  past,  and  conclude  that  he  has  dis- 
covered the  way  to  live  happily  and  pleasantly  with 
the  other  boys.  He  is  a  dear  little  fellow  and  always 
good  to  us,  obedient  and  cheerful. 

In  haste,  yours  sincerely, 

"A.  J.  GUNN." 

In  a  letter  written  a  week  later  he  comes  back  to 
the  subject  in  the  same  tone  of  grief  and  honest  peni- 
tence ;  and  he  gives  another  glimpse  at  his  real  nature. 


The  Personal  Side  213 

For  when  a  boy  tells  you  what  he  thinks  about  after 
he  has  gone  to  bed  at  night,  he  has  taken  you  very 
much  into  his  confidence. 

"  WASHINGTON,  CONN.,  Dec.  15,  1863. 

"DEAR  MOTHER  : 

' '  You  can't  realize  how  sorry  I  feel  for  that  great  mis- 
conduct that  happened  about  a  week  ago  and  I  want 
to  be  forgiven.  Will  you  forgive  me  this  time. 

"  Christmas  is  now  near  at  hand  and  I  have  concluded 
to  stay  here  and  I  suppose  you  had  rather  have  me  to. 
Mrs.  Gunn  has  just  got  through  reading  '  Eric  or  little 
by  little '  and  the  boys  were  delighted  with  it  only 
they  didn't  like  to  have  the  '  hero '  of  the  story  die. 
They  expected  to  have  it  turn  out  that  he  would  be  a 
great  man  :  But  it  did  n't.  You  know  that  he  died  on 
hearing  that  his  Mother  was  very  sick  and  might  die. 
It  ended  up  very  sad  and  scarcely  a  boy  ceased  to  cry. 
It  is  a  beautiful  book  and  impressed  several  things  on 
the  hearts  of  some  of  our  boys  and  I  realy  believe  it 
has  done  them  some  good  and  if  it  has  n't  done  them 
any  I  think  it  has  me.  Often  in  bed  I  think  of  '  Eric ' 
and  hope  that  I  will  never  do  some  of  the  bad  things 
he  did  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand  if  I  turn  out  to  be  as 
good  a  boy  as  he  turned  out  to  be  I  will  be  satisfied 
and  I  guess  you  will  to." 

Out  of  such  a  frank,  hearty,  kindly  boyhood,  there 
matured  its  natural  and  necessary  fruit.  The  boy 
was  father  to  the  man.  The  mature  Gibson  was  no 


214        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

disappointment  to  the  hopes  of  those  who  had  known 
him  in  youth.  He  had  all  the  charm  of  a  perfectly 
natural  and  wholesome  nature,  developing  along  lines 
which  strengthened  constantly  all  that  was  noblest 
and  most  admirable  in  it.  He  was  able  to  express 
himself  fully  in  his  work  ;  and  his  self-expression 
constantly  broadened  and  deepened  his  best  qualities. 

His  exuberant  nature  continually  overflowed  in  fun. 
His  seriousness  was  tempered  by  an  unfailing  sense 
of  humor,  and  his  tremendous  energy  was  stopped 
short  of  oppressiveness  by  his  capacity  for  play.  He 
had  the  secret  of  perpetual  youth.  He  always  kept 
the  heart  of  boyhood.  His  letters  bubbled  with  mirth. 
His  talk  was  bright  with  it.  All  his  friends  have 
memories  of  this  side  of  his  life  which  form  one  of 
the  most  delightful  legacies  from  that  past.  But  there 
is  no  preserving  the  effervescence  of  such  a  nature. 
It  is  never  the  same  on  the  memorial  page.  His  own 
spirit  was  so  much  a  part  of  it  all  that  without  his 
personality  behind  the  joke  it  would  lose  half  its 
point.  But  whether  he  made  sport  for  a  company,  as 
in  his  droll  stones  at  the  club,  or  raised  the  laugh  in 
the  flow  of  personal  talk,  his  touch  was  sure,  his 
humor  was  contagious. 

Probably  no  trait  in  him  thus  throve  and  grew  as 
did  his  enthusiasm,  his  zest  in  living,  his  love  of  what 
he  did,  and  what  he  saw,  and  what  he  contributed  to 
other  lives.  To  all  who  knew  him  he  was  a  fellow  of 


The  Personal  Side  215 

infinite  zest.  He  enjoyed  life.  He  enjoyed  all  lives, 
both  great  and  small,  human  and  sub-human.  A 
friend  used  to  say  of  him  that  Gibson  was  a  man  who 
thoroughly  enjoyed  himself.  No  doubt  he  did.  For 
that  is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  he  rejoiced  in 
the  things  God  had  given  him,  the  powers  which 
were  at  once  endowment  and  working  capital  in  his 
life.  No  man  ever  took  more  keen  delight  in  what 
is  commonly  counted  the  drudgery  of  toil.  He  really 
did  not  seem  to  be  conscious  of  the  hardship  of  hard 
work  or  the  irksomeness  of  the  set  task.  He  so 
thoroughly  loved  the  thing  which  he  did,  that  all  labor 
was  a  labor  of  love.  That  took  away  the  sense  of 
bondage  to  his  business,  and  was  one  of  the  secrets 
of  his  immense  endurance,  his  elasticity  under  heavy 
loads,  his  exuberance  of  spirits  in  situations  when 
most  men  would  have  sunk  overwhelmed. 

He  had  the  trait  which  marks  all  such  natures, 
a  whole-heartedness  in  all  that  he  undertook,  which 
made  him  a  difficult  man  to  overcome,  to  put  down, 
or  to  defeat.  That  was  obvious  in  all  his  hard  appren- 
ticeship; in  his  determined  struggle  for  success;  in 
his  loyalty  to  his  own  ideals.  It  came  out  in  some 
other  incidents  of  his  life.  His  vigorous  fight  against 
the  spirit  of  vandalism  which  threatened  the  natural 
beauties  of  Prospect  Park,  at  the  hands  of  a  dense 
and  narrow  officialism,  was  a  case  in  point.  In  the 
spring  of  1887,  Mr.  Gibson,  in  the  course  of  a  stroll 


216        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

through  the  Park,  was  filled  with  the  consternation 
and  wrath  which  are  inevitable  in  a  real  nature-lover 
when  he  finds  that  ignorant  and  unsympathetic  hands 
— and  heads — have  been  busy  destroying  the  natural 
beauties  which  years  of  artificial  culture  cannot  make 
good.  As  he  wrote  in  a  communication  to  one  of  the 
most  reputable  journals  of  the  day:  "  One  of  the  wild- 
est and  most  beautiful  sections  of  the  Park  had  been 
invaded  by  the  butcherly  Goths  and  Vandals  known 
as  our  Park  Commissioners.  Chaos  reigned  on  every 
side — beautiful  fresh  trees  by  the  score,  lying  in  piles 
of  logs  among  seas  of  chips,  bonfires  of  brushwood 
on  every  hand,  and  the  beauty  of  the  place  otherwise 
hacked  and  slashed  on  all  sides."  Gibson  at  once 
sounded  an  emphatic  and  indignant  warning  through 
the  columns  of  the  Brooklyn  " Eagle."  The  Park 
Commissioners  replied  through  an  agent  in  contemp- 
tuous fashion,  and  declared  that  all  they  had  been  doing 
was  to  cut  down  "a  lot  of  ailanthus  trees."  They 
did  not  know  the  caliber  of  their  critic.  In  a  second 
letter  Gibson  reiterated  his  charges  and  showed  as  the 
result  of  actual  count  and  careful  identification,  that 
over  two  hundred  trees  had  been  felled  in  one  small 
acre,  and  that  these  included  large  and  beautiful  speci- 
mens of  white  birch,  black  birch,  willow,  elm, 
poplar,  sweet-gum,  flowering  dogwood,  hornbeam, 
European  alder,  nettle-tree,  young  maple,  and  nu- 
merous other  varieties  of  the  minor  sylvae,  compris- 


The  Personal  Side  217 

ing  one  of  the  most  beautiful  pieces  of  underwood  to 
be  found  in  any  park.  The  Park  Commissioners  met 
this  new  charge  with  a  square  denial.  Gibson  pro- 
duced new  and  indisputable  evidence  to  confute  them ; 
induced  a  committee  of  gentlemen  of  the  highest 
standing  and  intelligence  to  investigate  the  premises 
and  the  evidences  of  his  accuracy, — including  Dr. 
Charles  H.  Hall,  Dr.  Charles  C.  Hall,  Dr.  Truman  J. 
Backus,  and  Dr.  Almon  Gunnison, — who  over  their 
own  names  verified  all  his  statements.  Then  the 
Commissioners  were  forced  to  admit  his  charges  (and 
thus,  indirectly,  their  own  untruthfulness),  but  claimed 
that  what  they  had  done  was  in  the  nature  of  the 
"improvement"  of  the  Park.  Then  Gibson  chal- 
lenged the  discomfited  Commissioners  to  refer  their 
claim  of  "improvement"  to  Samuel  Parsons,  the 
Superintendent  of  Central  Park,  requesting  his  expert 
decision  whether  this  cutting  was  or  was  not  a  justifi- 
able artistic  or  skilful  piece  of  landscape  gardening. 
The  challenge  was  not  accepted.  There  was  no  need 
that  it  should  be.  Gibson  had  roused  a  vigorous 
public  sentiment  which  forced  the  Commissioners  to 
call  a  halt  in  their  reckless  and  stupid  work;  and  his 
absolute  honesty,  accuracy,  and  readiness  as  an  advo- 
cate had  put  his  adversaries  to  shame  and  confusion. 
The  incident  is  well  worth  recalling  as  an  evidence  of 
what  one  honest  and  vigorous  citizen  can  do  in  the 
correction  of  a  public  evil.  It  is  even  more  interesting 


218        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

as  an  illustration  of  the  thoroughness  and  grasp  of  his 
mind  on  all  subjects  of  which  he  claimed  any  right  to 
speak. 

His  encounters  with  his  critics  were  often  as  amus- 
ing as  they  were  interesting,  on  account  of  the  com- 
pleteness with  which  he  would  effect  their  refutation 
and  overthrow.  His  very  neat  rejoinder  to  that  re- 
doubtable critic,  Charles  A.  Dana,  was  a  piquant  in- 
stance of  the  care  with  which  he  took  a  position,  as 
well  as  of  the  skill  with  which  he  defended  it.  Mr. 
Dana  had  taken  Gibson  to  task  in  the  columns  of  the 
"  Sun,"  for  using  the  form  "witch-hazel  "  instead  of 
"  wych-hazel,"  which  he  held  to  be  the  correct  and 
original  form, — "wych"  being  an  old  Saxon  word 
which  means  "hanging,"  and  has  been  applied  to 
foliage  with  pendent  stems.  Gibson  responded  in  a 
very  brief  letter  showing  that  while  both  forms  of  the 
word  had  sanction,  yet  that  the  oldest  and  the  latest 
botanists  used  the  form  which  he  had  adopted,  as 
well  as  the  most  reputable  dictionaries  of  that  date. 
His  summing-up,  in  a  letter  to  the  "New  York  Tri- 
bune," is  too  well-turned  to  be  translated  or  abridged. 

"Who  then  are  my  authorities?  The  botanical 
scholars;  Thoreau,  Tennyson;  The  Imperial  Diction- 
ary, Stormonth's,  Webster's,  and  Worcester's  Dic- 
tionaries; and  I  might  add,  last  but  by  no  means  least, 
'The  American  Cyclopedia,'  an  able  authority  which 
presents  conspicuously  the  questioned  form  '  witch- 


The  Personal  Side  219 

hazel, '  and  upon  whose  title-page,  by  the  way,  the  name 
of  Charles  A.  Dana  appears  significantly  as  editor." 

Well  might  an  intimate  friend  write  to  him,  after 
such  an  effective  "counter":  "Against  a  literary  shot 
like  that,  which  hits  the  bull's  eye  squarely  in  the 
center,  no  '  literary  sins '  of  a  minor  order  can  count 
for  much  even  when  they  are  proved ;  and  no  one 
who  has  the  power  to  make  the  shot  need  be  over- 
modest  about  his  literary  ability — he  has  the  essential 
thing." 

Quite  as  dramatic  in  its  completeness  was  the  refu- 
tation to  which  he  subjected  a  critic  of  his  illustra- 
tions, who  had  accused  him  of  owing  much  that  there 
was  of  merit  in  his  pictures  to  the  skill  of  his  engrav- 
ers. Gibson's  own  letter  tells  the  whole  story  and 
exposes  his  critic  in  the  fewest  possible  words. 

This  is  the  incident  referred  to  in  one  of  Mr.  Roe's 
letters  to  Gibson  which  appears  in  his  memoir  (p.  189). 

"The  Editor  of  the  'Tribune/ 
"DEAR  SIR: 

"  I  observe  this  evening  in  the  current  number  of 
the  'Critic/  an  art  reference  which  calls  for  a  slight 
correction.  In  a  review  of  'Nature's  Serial  Story/ 
by  E.  P.  Roe,  after  paying  a  delicate  compliment  to 
the  illustrations  of  the  volume  the  reviewer  goes  on 
to  say  that,  '  without  detracting  from  the  artist's 
meed  of  praise,  the  most  remarkable  thing  about  these 


220        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

illustrations  is  the  extraordinary  skill  displayed  by  the 
engravers.  .  .  .  Mr.  Henry  Marsh,  whose  delicacy 
and  precision  of  touch  are  marvelous,  shows  the  still 
rarer  power  of  taking  up  the  theme  submitted  to  him 
by  the  artist  and  adding  increment  after  increment  of 
meaning  to  it  until  it  becomes  almost  wholly  his  own. 
His  engraving  of  "A  Winter  Thunder-Storm  "  is  the 
finest  thing  in  the  book.  We  give  the  credit  to  him 
because  we  know  that  Mr.  Gibson's  forte  is  not  in 
landscape.' 

"I  yield  to  no  one  in  my  admiration  of  Mr.  Marsh 
not  only  as  a  master  and  a  poet  in  his  art,  but  equally  as 
an  esteemed  personal  friend.  Indeed  I  love  him  too 
well,  and  have  too  great  a  respect  for  his  interpretative 
genius  to  see  attributed  to  him  a  piece  of  work  which 
I  am  sure  he  would  not  care  to  claim,  although  it  is 
'  the  finest  thing  in  the  book  '  and  fraught  with*  incre- 
ment after  increment  of  meaning  '  and  which  is  never- 
theless nothing  but  a  photo-engraved  plate,  by  a  purely 
mechanical  process.  Of  course  the  '  Critic '  (?)  will 
hasten  to  make  all  due  acknowledgments  and  place 
the  credit  where  it  righteously  belongs,  /'.  e.,  to  the 
Ives  Photo-Engraving  Company,  Phila.,  Pa.,  whose 
admirable  process  has  reproduced  not  only  this,  but 
several  others  of  the  illustrations  in  which  the  afore- 
said alleged  marvelous  'increment'  was  discovered. 
Such  is  fame! 

"  Shade  of  Albrecht  Durer!    Who  are  our  critics  ?" 


The  Personal  Side  221 

Mr.  Roe  wrote  under  date  of  Dec.  29,  1884:  "You 
did  indeed  win  a  victory  over  the  'incrementitious ' 
critic.  I  should  think  he  would  wish  to  crawl  into  a 
small  hole,  and  pull  the  hole  in  after  him.  I  enjoyed 
your  triumph  as  much  as  if  it  had  been  my  own.  It 
was  the  neatest  thrust  under  the  fifth  rib  I  ever  saw, 
and  I  fear  I  shall  never  have  enough  of  Christian  meek- 
ness not  to  enjoy  seeing  a  fellow  receive  his  congt 
when  so  well  deserved.  Dr.  Abbott  and  I  took  part 
in  the  '  wake '  up  here." 

Another  instance  of  his  trapping  the  friendly  critic 
is  preserved  in  his  correspondence.  Colonel  Gibson 
had  objected  to  the  "Old  Barnyard"  as  pictured  in 
"  Pastoral  Days."  "  The  sloppy  slush  through  which 
the  man  is  splashing  "  he  wrote,  "is  almost  too  faithful. 
But,  my  dear  fellow, — an  apple-tree  in  a  cow-yard! 
— and  loose  fence-posts  leaning  on  it !  .  .  .  And 
do  you  ever  see  trees  or  shrubs  on  the  pond  side 
of  a  mill  ?  "  (referring  to  the  skating  scene  in  the  same 
paper).  To  which  Gibson  the  artist  made  answer  as 
follows: 

"  I  have  had  considerable  amusement  over  my  large 
and  most  important  work  at  the  last  display,  viz. : 
'  Autumn  at  Knoll  Farm,'  bought  first  day  by  Henry 
Ward  Beecher,  who  says  that  'the  Colmans,  the 
GifTords,  or  the  Smiths  can't  beat  it.'  He  tells  all  his 
friends  so,  and  in  his  appreciation  of  it  only  sounds  the 
universal  praise  which  it  met  with;  but,  mark  you! 


222        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Our  most  high-toned  and  modern  art  publication, 
'The  Art  Review,'  which  employs  the  finest  staff  of 
contributors  the  country  affords,  contained  in  its  last 
issue  a  criticism  that  '  did  me  proud '  and  at  the  same 
time  gave  me  a  jolly  laugh  at  the  way  I  had  '  fooled ' 
one  of  our  most  noted  art  critics.  He  went  on  at 
the  beginning  of  his  *  critique '  to  condemn  lightly  the 
body-color  school,  claimed  that  it  took  away  from  the 
atmosphere,  'made  mud,'  was  always  likely  to  hurt 
rather  than  improve  a  painting.  He  hedged  himself 
however  in  the  statement  that  'a  skilful  hand  could 
obtain  a  finer  effect  with  '  body  color '  than  an  un- 
skilled hand  with  wash.'  But  he  did  not  see  the 
necessity  of  using  it  at  all.'  'Not  even  for  the  most 
bold  subjects  is  it  necessary.'  .  .  .  'Take  for  in- 
stance Swain  Gifford's  (I  forget  title,  but  it  was  a 
very  strong  bit  of  color),  rich  and  full  of  strength, 
or  even  W.  H.  Gibson's  very  strong  "Autumn,"  all 
rocks  and  tree  trunks  and  weeds  and  admirable 
sky,  all  done  with  pure  blots.'  Mark  you!  Those 
rocks  and  tree  trunks  and  weeds  were  all  put  in 
thick  with  body  color,  painted  over.  The  result 
was  a  rich  full  texture,  that  could  not  have  been 
got  in  wash  without  at  least  much  more  labor  and 
I  doubt  even  then.  Others  are  deceived  in  the 
same  way,  and  I  repeat  that  the  result  sanctifies  the 
means,  and  I  will  guarantee  to  deceive  any  critic  in 
the  country  on  the  question  of  body  color.  I  sold 


The  Personal  Side  223 

three  of  my  pictures  and  it  looks  as  though  the  rest 
would  go  too. 

' '  I  am  glad  you  admired  my  '  Idyl '  and  especially  so 
that  you  should  have  thought  to  write  me  about  it.  It 
is  always  pleasant  to  receive  such  letters,  although 
unpleasant  to  think  that  you  are  obliged  to  send  such 
horrible  scrawls  in  return.  But  I  believe  you  are 
good  at  ' puzzles'  even  if  it  is  a  13.15.14.  But  you 
slipped  up  in  your  overhauling  of  that  barn  with  its 
fence-posts  leaning  against  an  apple-tree,  and  an  'apple- 
tree  in  a  barn-yard'  !  Know,  my  friend,  that  that 
apple-tree  and  barn,  with  all  their  '  improbabilities '  in 
the  way  of  posts  and  apple-trees,  etc.,  were  direct  from 
a  photograph  which  I  made  from  nature  with  my  little 
camera,  and  all  these  things  were  there.  The  old  mill 
with  its  '  pond-side  trees '  was  also  from  nature,  and 
if  you  will  take  another  look  at  it,  consider  these  ques- 
tions meanwhile  :  What  does  the  mill  stand  on  ? 
Could  not  a  tree  grow  from  the  ground  at  its  other 
indefinite  end  and  spread  toward  you?" 

He  was  a  man  of  many  and  warm  friendships.  It  was 
natural  for  him  to  like  and  to  love  his  fellow-men.  He 
opened  his  heart  and  his  lips  readily  to  all  who  came 
to  him  in  sincerity  and  in  friendliness.  But  he  had 
special  places  in  his  life  and  thoughts  for  those  who 
stood  nearest  to  him  in  sympathy  and  affinity.  The 
"old  boys"  of  the  "Gunnery"  were  accorded  a  high 
place  in  his  heart,  and  so  were  those  who  later  became 


224        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

his  neighbors  in  Washington.  His  affection  for  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Gunn  was  almost  a  sacred  passion  with  him, 
and  never  waned  but  rather  grew  throughout  his  life. 
Very  tender  and  beautiful  were  the  expressions  of  this 
affection  which  passed  between  himself  and  his  old 
teacher. 

No  less  genuine  and  tender  was  his  devotion  to 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  his  pastor  as  a  boy  in  Plymouth, 
his  friend  and  sympathizer  always.  His  frank  and 
open  nature  was  one  to  which  the  warm  heart  of  the 
great  preacher  would  naturally  be  drawn ;  and  Beecher's 
fervid,  enthusiastic  personality  would  as  inevitably  at- 
tract and  hold  the  appreciative,  impulsive  heart  of  the 
young  artist.  There  was  little  danger  of  misunder- 
standing between  these  two.  Through  all  the  great 
sorrow  of  Mr.  Beecher's  life,  young  Gibson  was  his 
enthusiastic  champion,  his  loyal  friend.  His  own  heart 
was  heavy  and  hot  by  turns,  over  the  hounding  of 
Mr.  Beecher.  He  wrote  at  the  close  of  a  letter  to  his 
wife  : 

"Mr.  D.  worked  me  up  into  a  red-hot  rage  this 
evening,  by  his  insufferable  and  insulting  remarks 
against  Mr.  Beecher.  If  he  were  a  gentleman  he 
would  at  least  have  manners  enough  not  to  insult  Mr. 
Beecher  to  my  face,  knowing  him  to  be  my  pastor 
and  personal  friend." 

In  a  later  letter  of  the  same  year,  he  excuses  himself 
for  not  writing  oftener,  by  saying  : 


The  Personal  Side  225 

"  My  mind  has  been  full  of  this  trouble,  not  through 
anxiety  about  Mr.  Beecher's  innocence  or  guilt,  but 
more  through  my  belief  in  his  innocence  and  conse- 
quent pity  and  sorrow  for  him.  I  love  him  almost  as  a 
father.  He  has  done  more  than  I  can  tell  for  my  spiritual 
good,  and  his  kindness  and  interest  in  me  have  drawn 
me  close  to  him." 

He  poured  his  whole  heart  into  a  letter  which  he  sent 
with  the  volume  which  he  had  dedicated  to  Mr. 
Beecher: 

AUTHORS  CLUB 
"19  WEST  24TH  STREET,  NEW  YORK, 

"Dteaj/86. 

"DEAR  MR.  BEECHER  :— 

"I  send  herewith  the  volume  which  I  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  inscribing  to  you.  If  you  shall  find  be- 
tween these  brief  lines  any  deeper  sentiment  than  there 
appears,  any  grateful  acknowledgment  of  a  friendship 
which  I  have  been  fortunate  and  proud  to  possess, 
which  I  have  sought  to  deserve  and  which  has  been 
most  fondly  returned  ;  of  thanks  for  many  kindnesses 
on  the  threshold  of  my  struggle  for  recognition,  and 
of  your  continual  helpful  and  welcome  encouragement; 
of  sincere  gratitude  too  toward  my  pastor,  who  from 
earliest  youth  has  quickened  my  aspirations  toward  a 
high  ideal  of  character  and  a  life  of  usefulness  and  in- 
tegrity ; — if  you  shall  discover  these  and  thus  learn 
how  close  a  place  you  hold  in  my  affections,  then  you 

shall  read  truly  the  spirit  of  my  dedication. 
15 


226        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"With  hopes  that  the  coming  Christmas  may  be 
blest  with  peace  and  joy  to  you  and  yours  and  that 
your  helpful  companionship  may  be  spared  to  all  of  us 
with  health  and  happiness  to  yourself  and  with  con- 
tinual beneficence  to  others  for  many  years  to  come, 
"Believe  me, 

"Yours  affectionately, 

"W.  HAMILTON  GIBSON." 

An  interesting  side-light  is  thrown  on  a  now  memo- 
rable event  in  Plymouth  Church  in  another  letter,  writ- 
ten on  the  same  day  on  which  Mr.  Beecher  delivered 
his  famous  sermon  in  denunciation  of  Calvinism,  and 
made  his  outspoken  and  unmistakable  revolt  against 
the  stern  dogmas  of  an  older  day.  There  is  little  doubt 
that  Gibson  was  one  of  the  quickest  and  heartiest  in 
the  applause  which  he  describes  : 

"Mr.  Beecher  delivered,  this  morning,  to  an  im- 
mense audience  the  finest  sermon  of  his  life,— the 
most  eloquent  effort,  without  doubt,  that  ever  escaped 
his  lips.  He  was  heartily  applauded  throughout  the 
house  several  times,  as  he  vehemently  denounced  the 
right  of  bishops  and  other  ecclesiastical  heads,  to 
usurp  authority  in  the  Church.  True  Christianity,  he 
said,  implied  liberty.  Men  should  not  turn  their  hearts 
to  Christ  through  fear  but  through  love.  The  God 
that  has  been  and  is  still  preached  in  the  churches 
throughout  the  land,  is  not  a  god  but  a  devil.  If  he 


The  Personal  Side  227 

could  picture  a  monster  the  most  horrible  and  cruel 
imaginable  it  would  be  the  God  which  is  preached  in 
many  of  our  churches  and  to  thousands  of  our  people. 
He  maintained  his  utter  independence,  and  said  that 
no  man  could  say  to  him  what  he  should  do  or  what 
he  should  not  do,  he  was  responsible  to  God  alone, 
and  if  he  was  inspired  to  preach  the  gospel  to  his 
people  he  would  do  it  with  all  his  heart  and  all  his 
soul  and  would  give  utterance  to  every  thought  he 
chose.  'Men  say  I  shall  not,  I  say  I  shall.'  Christi- 
anity, he  said,  had  been  trampled  under  foot  by  the 
spirit  of  ecclesiastical  authority,  that  the  time  was 
approaching  when  liberty  in  the  church  was  to  rule 
triumphant  and  until  it  did  the  world  would  suffer. 

"His  voice  rose  very  high  and  it  was  altogether 
the  most  eloquent  effort  he  has  ever  made  in  this 
pulpit, — and  is  so  conceded  by  all  whom  I  have 
spoken  with.  I  never  saw  Mr.  Beecher  when  he 
appeared  happier  and  healthier  than  now. 

"It  had  been  almost  decided  to  send  him  away  on 
a  six  months'  vacation  for  rest,  but  he  to-day  refused 
to  take  it,  saying  that  he  did  not  need  it  and  would 
rather  stay  at  home  with  his  people  as  'they  needed 
his  preaching  and  he  needed  to  preach.'  I  am  going 
to  call  on  him  soon." 

To  attempt  to  enumerate  the  authors  and  the  artists, 
the  critics  and  the  clergymen,  the  naturalists  and  the 
nature  "amateurs"  with  whom  he  was  on  friendly 


228        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

and  even  intimate  terms  would  be  to  make  a  long 
catalogue  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  his  time.  It 
would  include  such  names  as  Stedman  and  Stoddard, 
Beard  and  Murphy,  Abbott  and  Ludlow,  Burroughs 
and  Roe  and  Ellwanger,  Parsons  and  Alden  and  the 
Egglestons.  His  correspondence  included  men  and 
women  from  all  over  the  world.  His  genius  appealed 
to  men  of  all  classes  and  pursuits — to  all  who  had  the 
simple  heart  of  childhood  and  its  open  eye.  And  that 
genius  was  so  full  of  the  vitality  of  the  individual,  so 
warm  with  his  own  personality,  that  to  admire  him 
as  artist  or  naturalist  was  to  be  drawn  to  him  as  a 
man.  He  seemed  to  come  to  people  as  a  friendly 
interpreter  and  as  a  helpful  friend,  unlocking  new 
gates  outward  into  nature's  life,  disclosing  new  hori- 
zons, telling  new  secrets  of  the  Cosmos.  The  tone 
of  the  letters  he  received  from  hundreds  of  unknown 
admirers  shows  that  he  was  everywhere  held  as  a 
personal  friend,  a  teacher  who  won  at  once  the  at- 
tention, the  admiration,  and  the  love  of  his  disciples. 
Two  letters  from  correspondents  curiously  remote 
from  each  other  are  types  of  the  hundreds  who  were 
drawn  by  the  human  spirit  of  his  writings  to  ply  him 
with  questions,  or  overwhelm  him  with  appreciation 
and  gratitude.  From  the  confines  of  civilization  on 
the  north  to  the  boundary  of  the  nation  on  the  south, 
the  friends  whom  he  had  made  by  his  pencil  and  his 
pen,  his  art  and  his  scientific  knowledge,  appealed  to 


The  Personal  Side  229 

him  with  an  instinctive  feeling  that  he  would  under- 
stand them,  welcome  them,  help  them  if  he  could. 
Nor  were  they  ever  disappointed.  The  first  letter  is 
from  bleak  Anticosti  Island  : 

"THE   LIGHTHOUSE, 

"SOUTH  WEST  POINT, 

"  ijth  May,  1895. 

"DEAR  MR.  GIBSON  : 

"We  hesitated  a  long  time  before  coming  to  you 
with  this  question.  We  knew  that  so  many  must 
worry  you  in  the  same  way,  and  yet  we  have  come 
at  last  like  the  rest.  I  can  only  hope  you  will  forgive 
us.  We  live  on  Anticosti,  an  island  with  a  very  bad 
name  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  I  know  you 
never  heard  a  good  word  of  it.  I  must  beg  you, 
though,  to  believe  that  it  is  as  much  belied  as  the  toad- 
stools you  championed  last  year.  Its  woods  and 
plains  are  full  of  treasures  and  among  them  goodly 
stores  of  those  same  toadstools.  They  were  all  under 
the  ban,  though,  as  in  other  places  and  we  dared  only 
look  at  them  regretfully. 

"You  don't  know  how  glad  we  were  when  you 
broke  the  spell  in  *  Harper's '  last  summer.  I  don't 
think  anybody  else  was  so  glad.  You  know  we  live 
alone  here  and  try  to  make  friends  of  '  all  out-doors ' 
and  anything  like  this  means  more  to  us  than  to 
most  people. 

"  For  a  while  then  we  were  happy.    We  knew  you 


230        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

and  we  had  faith  enough  in  ourselves  to  believe  that 
we  were  able  to  understand  anything  you  wrote  for 
everyday  folks,  let  alone  something  that  led  them 
among  deadly  poisons.  But  very  soon  we  began  to 
fret.  Nearly  every  toadstool  we  met  near  home  was 
a  Russula  and  generally  far  larger  and  more  delicious- 
looking  than  anything  else  we  could  find  far  or 
near. 

"They  went  through  every  shade  of  redness  and 
pinkness  and  pepperiness.  I  should  be  afraid  to  say 
how  often  I  vowed  with  pricking  lips  that  I  would 
taste  no  more.  Some  'were  not  so  very  red  or  so 
very  peppery'  and  then  'how  very  far  Mr.  Gibson 
must  be  keeping  on  the  safe  side  for  the  sake  of 
stupid  people.'  1  tried  cooking  some  of  them  though 
I  felt  in  my  heart  that  they  were  the  same  as  the  rest 
and  found  them  very  good.  But  every  one  was,  and 
very  reasonably,  shy  of  them. 

"At  this  critical  time  we  came  across  the  article 
enclosed. 

"Here  was  another  excitement.  But  who  was 
Charles  Mcllvaine  ?  '  He  knows  what  he  is  talking 
about  anyway,'  I  said,  'and  I  am  going  to  try  the 
whole  red  tribe ';  and  I  did. 

"They  were  all  he  said  and  after  a  while  the  others 
took  courage  and  we  even  gave  some  to  a  friend  who 
had  discovered  the  common  mushroom  for  us. 

"I  felt  misgivings  all  through  the  winter,  though, 


The  Personal  Side  231 

about  the  coming  season.  I  did  not  want  to  risk 
unpleasantness  and  'emeticus'  is  such  a  very  ominous 
name.  And  who  was  Mcllvaine,  after  all  ?  Was  n't 
it  rash  to  listen  to  him  ? 

"And  lo  and  behold  you  talk  now  in  the  'Bazar' 
of  Captain  Charles  Mcllvaine  the  eminent  mycolo- 
gist! 

"Did  you  know  that  he  said  all  that  about  the 
Russula  ?  If  we  follow  his  advice  what  risk  do  we 
run  of  making  people  ill  ?  We  don't  mind  so  much 
about  ourselves  but  we  must  think  a  little  more  of 
our  guests.  They  are  rare  enough  without  poisoning 
any  of  them. 

"Please  give  us  just  a  little  word  of  advice,  any- 
thing you  find  time  to  say.  And  please,  even  if  you 
cannot  excuse  this  liberty  and  cannot  say  anything, 
send  me  back  the  newspaper  cutting. 

"I  never  intended  to  say  all  this  when  I  began  and 
feel  quite  ashamed  when  I  look  back  at  the  length  of 
my  letter.  Hoping  that  you  will  excuse  it,  believe 
me  with  warmest  thanks  and  gratitude, 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"GRACE  POPE. 

11  W.  HAMILTON  GIBSON,  Esq., 
"  New  York." 

The  second  letter,  a  few  years  before,  came  from 
the  extreme  southwest : 


232        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"  SAN  ANTONIO,  TEXAS, 

"Jan'y  ijth,  1892. 

"My  DEAR  MR.  GIBSON  : 

"Will  you  pardon  me,  an  entire  stranger,  and  a 
Texan  writing  to  you,  but  I  want  to  tell  you  how 
much  I  have  enjoyed  and  profited  by  reading  your 
'  Sharp  Eyes.'  A  good  friend  sent  it  from  Denver  as  a 
Xmas  remembrance  and  each  night  I  read  some  portion 
because  it  is  a  never  failing  delight  to  read  of  my  many 
familiar  friends  in  Nature  you  describe  in  such  a  clear 
and  delightful  manner.  Knowing  your  time  is  valu- 
able and  you  are  of  human  patience,  though  you  have 
the  young  lover  of  Nature  at  heart,  I  am  tempted  to  ask 
you  to  solve  for  me  a  problem  that  has  been  not  only 
a  mystery  for  several  years  but  an  actual  annoyance 
not  to  be  able  to  find  a  satisfactory  explanation.  It  is 
this.  Often  in  winter  time  we  see  flies  and  mosqui- 
toes swollen  almost  to  bursting  attached  to  panes  of 
glass,  their  little  bodies  oftentimes  striped  like  a  yellow 
wasp's  and  surrounding  them  and  attached  to  the  glass 
is  a  misty  deposit  of  some  kind.  It  is  the  cause  and 
object  of  this  misty  deposit  I  seek.  If  you  will  en- 
lighten me  upon  this  subject  by  explanation  or  reference 
you  will  add  only  one  more  favor  to  a  large  number. 

"That  you  have  been  the  means  of  adding  greatly 
to  the  pleasure  and  instruction  of  the  present  genera- 
tion, young  and  old,  I  see  from  my  limited  field  of  ob- 
servation. That  you  may  be  spared  many  years  to 


The  Personal  Side  233 

continue  your  good  work  and  enjoy  the  pleasures  of 
God's  Nature  in  this  world  and  reap  a  rich  reward  in 
the  Life  hereafter  is  the  earnest  wish  of 

"Your  sincere  admirer, 

"ARCHIBALD  A.  ALEXANDER." 

One  could  add  to  these  indefinitely.  A  minister  in 
the  northwest,  a  lover  of  flowers  and  a  true  woods- 
man, has  a  fine  program  for  a  canoeing  trip  on  Minne- 
sota rivers  and  lakes  ;  a  farmer's  wife  writes  to  ask 
direction  to  some  simple  manual  which  will  help  her 
copy  flowers  in  color,  and  encloses  some  examples  of 
her  simple  work  ;  an  admiring  poet  sends  some  verses 
which  will  not  scan,  and  will  be  glad  to  have  her 
adulations  published, — and  remuneration  secured  ; 
another  admirer  insists  that  he  is  not  an  autograph 
fiend, — but  he  would  like  a  letter  in  reply  to  his  praises; 
an  impecunious  poet  suggests  an  immediate  loan  of  ten 
dollars  ;  a  mother  in  a  western  state  sends  some  admira- 
ble sketches  done  by  her  daughter  and  wishes  his  judg- 
ment upon  their  merits.  People  felt  his  kindly  nature 
in  his  writings  and  in  his  pictures.  It  was  a  virtue 
that  went  out  of  him,  and  drew  like  a  loadstone. 

Nowhere,  perhaps,  outside  the  charmed  and  privi- 
leged circle  of  the  "Gunnery"  boys,— they  were  al- 
ways "boys"  and  "girls"  to  one  another  ! — was  he 
more  welcome  or  more  warmly  cherished  than  at  the 
Authors  Club.  He  counted  it  a  great  honor  to  be 


234        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

chosen  into  that  favored  circle,  and  as  he  was  one  of  its 
earliest  members,  so  he  was  one  of  its  most  constant 
and  loyal  supporters.  Whenever  he  could  he  joined 
in  its  social  conclaves  and  its  decorous  revels  ;  and 
his  presence  was  always  a  guarantee  of  good  fellow- 
ship, unconstrained,  talkative,  and  sparkling.  In  the 
earliest  home  of  the  Club  in  East  Fifteenth  St. ;  in  its 
rooms  in  West  Twenty-fourth  St. ;  later  in  the  West 
Twenty-third  St.  quarters  ;  and  finally  in  the  soaring 
apartments  to  which  it  attained,  Gibson's  was  one  of 
the  familiar  figures,  as  it  was  one  of  those  most  com- 
monly sought  out  of  strangers.  But  it  was  never  a  figure 
with  "a  certain  solitariness,"  as  seen  by  his  imaginative 
critic.  Wherever  Gibson  sat  or  stood,  there  was  sure  to 
be  a  group.  Men  gathered  about  him  as  birds  flock  to 
the  banks  of  a  rippling  stream.  Nor  was  he  any  slower 
in  coming  to  the  side  of  others.  He  sought  companion- 
ship as  frankly  as  he  gave  it.  He  was  always  running 
over  with  bright,  attractive  talk  ;  but  he  had  a  willing 
ear.  He  was  conscious  of  his  power  to  attract ;  but  it 
never  bred  in  him  the  slightest  condescension  toward 
others.  He  was  passionately  fond  of  wit,  and  humor, 
and  all  the  honest  fun  of  life  ;  but  he  never  showed  a 
particle  of  coarseness,  and  he  never  confounded  fun 
with  foulness.  He  was  as  much  at  home  with  the 
largest  minds  and  characters  as  he  was  with  the  simple 
farmers  and  rustics,  he  delighted  to  describe ;  for  he  met 
all  men  on  the  ground  of  their  common  brotherhood, 


•I 

kj  « 


The  Personal  Side  235 

and  had  no  absurd  consciousness  of  external  condition 
and  accidental  differences  to  embarrass  him.  His  rev- 
erence and  his  religiousness  were  profound  elements  of 
his  nature.  He  was  no  formalist.  Probably  he  did  not 
set  a  very  high  value  upon  some  of  the  externals  of  spir- 
itual life  which  seem  so  important  to  many  men.  He 
was,  indeed,  a  loyal  supporter  of  religious  works  and 
enterprises,  as  he  was  a  member  of  the  visible  church  ; 
and  he  paid  the  highest  respect  to  all  that  pertained  to 
what  is  commonly  demanded  as  a  mark  of  Christian 
life  and  interest.  But  he  had  a  life  in  the  Spirit  which 
was  larger  and  broader  than  all  that.  He  felt  and  he 
loved  the  Divine  Life  in  all  that  he  saw,  and  heard,  and 
studied,  and  tried  to  draw  and  paint,  in  the  world 
around  him.  To  his  thinking  it  was  all  the  expression 
of  God  ;  as  such  he  reverenced  the  creation.  Through 
this  world  of  nature  he  was  always  seeing  and  feeling 
the  Father.  His  letters  breathe  a  note  of  honest  de- 
voutness  which  passes  all  lip-service.  And  scattered 
through  his  pages  are  frequent  expressions  of  a  spiritu- 
ality deeper  than  any  words  or  phrases  which  so  easily 
become  cant.  There  is  a  deep  revelation  of  the  heart 
of  the  man  in  a  passage  in  "  Woodnotes."  Listen  to 
his  soul  pouring  itself  out  in  these  words  : 

"  Sitting  alone  in  the  woods  I  have  sometimes  known 
a  moment  of  such  supreme  exaltation  that  I  have  almost 
questioned  my  sanity — a  spirit  and  an  impulse  which 
I  would  no  more  attempt  to  frame  into  words  than  I 


236        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

should  think  to  define  the  Deity  himself—'  I  am  glad  to 
the  brink  of  fear.'  My  own  identity  is  a  mystery. 
The  presence  of  the  dearest  friend  on  earth  would  be 
an  unwelcome  intrusion.  The  pulses  of  the  woods 
beat  through  me.  The  joyous  flight  of  bird  brings 
buoyant  memories,  the  linnet's  song  now  seems  swell- 
ing in  my  own  throat.  Happy  Donatello  in  the  garden 
of  the  Borghese  is  no  longer  a  myth,  though  even  he 
knew  no  such  joy  as  this.  At  such  times — and  are 
they  not  vouchsafed  to  every  true  '  Holy-Lander '  ? — I 
am  conscious  of  an  unwonted  sympathy  in  nature — a 
strange,  double,  paradoxical  existence,  which,  while 
lifting  me  to  the  clouds,  still  holds  me  to  the  earth." 

It  was  this  inner  soul  of  nature  as  it  filled  the  inner 
soul  of  the  man,  which  he  felt  a  growing  power  to 
express  in  art.  But  before  he  could  speak  his  message 
he  passed  from  our  presence. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AFTERGLOW 

FOR  many  months  preceding  the  summer  of  1896, 
Mr.  Gibson  had  felt  himself  failing  in  health. 
The  strain  of  his  long  lecture-tours  told  seriously  upon 
his  strength,  and  several  times  he  suffered  from  faint- 
ing attacks  and  vertigo,  sometimes  in  the  very 
presence  of  his  audiences.  When  he  withdrew  from 
the  city  in  the  early  summer,  it  was  with  a  knowl- 
edge that  his  health  was  impaired,  and  the  hope,  as 
well,  that  in  Washington,  at  "The  Sumacs,"  he  would 
find  the  quiet  and  the  rest  which  would  restore  the 
tone  of  his  system  and  repair  the  wastes  of  excessive 
work.  But  this  hope  was  not  to  be  fulfilled.  He 
himself  was  depressed  and  apprehensive,  and  his 
friends  shared  his  fears.  A  slight  improvement  seemed 
to  come  with  midsummer,  but  proved  illusory.  On 
Thursday  evening,  the  i6th  of  July,  he  left  his  home  to 
go  after  his  mail  at  the  village  post-office.  Meeting  a 
number  of  friends  and  acquaintances  he  sat  down  out- 
side the  office  for  a  chat  with  them.  He  appeared  to 
be  in  excellent  spirits,  and  for  an  hour  was  quite  him- 
self. Then  he  turned  to  a  gentleman  beside  him  and 
asked  if  there  was  anything  wrong  about  his  speech. 

237 


238        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

He  said  his  voice  seemed  thick,  and  that  he  could  not 
articulate  plainly.  A  book  he  held  in  his  hand  dropped 
to  the  floor  several  times,  and  he  seemed  unable  to  re- 
tain his  hold  of  it.  Being  asked  if  he  felt  ill,  he  said 
that  he  did,  and  suggested  that  he  should  walk  to  the 
residence  of  Dr.  Ford.  His  friends  prevailed  upon 
him  to  remain  quiet,  and  one  of  their  number  hurried 
for  medical  aid.  Drs.  Ford  and  Brown  soon  arrived, 
and  they  did  all  in  their  power  for  their  patient.  A 
wagon  was  soon  brought  to  the  door,  and  Mr.  Gibson 
was  placed  in  a  chair  in  the  wagon,  but  before  they 
had  reached  his  beautiful  home,  "The  Sumacs,"  he 
had  ceased  breathing,  and  upon  the  friends  who  had 
accompanied  him  was  thrown  the  task  of  breaking  the 
sad  news  to  his  wife  and  children. 

On  Sunday,  the  I9th,  occurred  the  funeral  services, 
a  tender  and  sympathetic  account  of  which  was  given 
in  "  Plymouth  Chimes." 

''The  village  of  Washington,  Connecticut,  has  been 
made  famous  by  the  '  Gunnery '  School,  and  by  Mr. 
Gibson,  its  illustrious  pupil,  who  received  within  its 
walls  the  inspiration  of  his  career.  The  forests, 
thickets,  and  hillsides  of  that  picturesque  region  fur- 
nished the  favorite  subjects  of  his  pencil  and  pen;  and, 
after  he  had  achieved  professional  success,  he  estab- 
lished at  Washington,  among  the  friends  of  his  boy- 
hood, his  country  home.  Everybody  there  knew  and 
loved  him,  and  was  proud  of  him.  And  when  death 


Afterglow  239 

suddenly  came  to  him,  it  was  felt  to  be  an  element 
of  mercy  in  the  shock  of  sorrow,  that  he  was  struck 
down  in  the  midst  of  happy  intercourse  with  his 
neighbors. 

"The  funeral  service,  held  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
July  1 9th,  at  his  residence,  'The  Sumacs,'  was 
keyed  throughout  to  triumph  and  thanksgiving, 
rather  than  gloom.  The  day  was  bright  and  cool; 
birds  sang  about  the  house ;  wild  flowers  and  green 
branches  filled  all  available  spaces ;  and  the  crowd  of 
neighbors  sat  in  the  pleasant  rooms  or  out  on  the 
porch  beyond  the  open  door. 

"The  Scripture,  read  by  Mr.  Carter,  the  Washington 
pastor,  comprised  passages  descriptive  of  the  glory  of 
God  in  nature,  and  of  the  triumph  and  rest  of  the 
saints.  The  prayer,  by  Mr.  Turner  (formerly  pastor 
at  Washington,  and  now  chaplain  at  the  Hampton 
Institute,  in  Virginia),  was  similarly  attuned  to 
solemn  exultation.  The  hymns  (favorites  of  Mr.  Gib- 
son) were  'Love  Divine/  'Abide  with  Me,'  and 
'  Upward  Where  the  Stars  are  Burning ' — the  last  sung 
exquisitely  as  a  soh>;  the  two  others,  with  scarcely 
less  tender  sweetness,  by  the  whole  company. 

"The address,  by  his  life-long  friend,  Dr.  R.  W.  Ray- 
mond, was,  from  beginning  to  end,  an  expression  of 
gratitude  rather  than  grief.  It  enumerated  the  features 
of  the  victorious,  happy,  fruitful,  sincere,  loving,  and 
devout  life  which  had  been  sent  as  a  blessing  and 


240        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

inspiration  among  men.  Several  anecdotes  were  re- 
lated, illustrative  of  Mr.  Gibson's  sympathy  with  all 
living  things,  and  of  the  surprising  way  in  which  it 
was  recognized  and  reciprocated. 

"  It  was  told,  for  instance,  how  he  could  take  a  wild 
bird  from  the  branch  of  a  tree,  caress  it,  and  return  it 
unharmed  and  unfrightened  ;  how  strange  birds  would 
fly  to  him  and  light  upon  his  shoulder  ;  and  how  even 
butterflies  seemed  to  be  attracted  to  him. 

"The  address  closed  with  a  beautiful  poem,  written 
for  the  occasion  by  Dr.  Raymond. 

"Through  shady  roads  the  funeral  procession  of 
carriages  and  pedestrians  passed  to  the  loveliest  spot 
in  Washington,  the  burial-ground,  which  occupies  the 
side  of  a  hill,  commanding  a  prospect  of  forest  and 
meadow,  stream  and  mountain,  full  of  peace  and 
beauty.  The  grave  was  lined  with  green  branches 
and  fringed  with  goldenrod;  and  after  a  hymn  'The 
Home-land'  and  a  prayer,  the  casket  was  gently 
lowered  into  this  bower  of  rest.  And  then,  under 
the  benediction  of  the  sunset,  the  mortal  body  of 
William  Hamilton  Gibson  was  left  to  its  repose." 

The  fine  word  spoken  by  Dr.  Raymond  on  this 
occasion  is  one  which  should  have  a  lasting  place 
among  the  memorials  of  his  friend.  It  was  in  such 
entire  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  hour,  with  the 
memories  which  were  uppermost,  with  the  sense  of 
loss,  and  the  still  deeper  sense  of  life  enriched  and 


Afterglow  241 

brightened  by  the  earthly  work  which  was  ended, 
that  it  was  instantly  recognized  as  at  once  synopsis 
and  echo  of  Gibson's  career.  Dr.  Raymond  said : 

"I  count  it  a  great  privilege  to  stand  here  this  day, 
and  utter  the  love  and  sorrow  of  so  many  souls. 
Words  are  but  feeble  expedients  for  such  a  task ;  yet 
there  is,  in  one  respect,  a  significant  choice  of  words. 
Shall  we  express  grief  or  gratitude  ?  Shall  we  measure 
our  loss  by  the  vacancy  it  has  left  behind,  or  count 
with  j'py  the  treasure  we  have  had,  giving  God  thanks 
that  we  had  it  so  long  and  so  abundantly  ?  For  my 
part,  I  would  not  desecrate  with  the  wailing  of  grief 
this  sky  of  Sabbath  peace,  or  that  face  of  serene 
triumph  and  repose.  Let  us  measure  our  love  and 
our  sorrow,  then,  in  terms  of  gratitude.  Thanks  be 
to  God  for  the  unspeakable  gift  to  us  of  a  victorious, 
happy,  fruitful,  helpful,  sincere,  loving,  devout,  in- 
spired life,  which,  once  received  among  us,  we  can 
never  lose.  Even  the  nearest  and  dearest  and  most 
bitterly  bereaved  can  comfort  grief  with  gratitude. 

"I  say  it  was  a  victorious  life.  I  knew  William 
Hamilton  Gibson  when  he  was  a  boy;  and  I  knew 
the  struggle  of  his  early  life,  when,  impelled  by  an 
irresistible  impulse  towards  art,  and  nature  as  its  in- 
spiration, he  steadily  pursued  that  ideal,  'not  diso- 
bedient to  the  heavenly  vision,'  until,  in  spite  of  the 
warnings  of  the  would-be  wise,  and  the  carpings  of 

the  would-be  critical,  he  won  for  himself  a  recognition 
16 


242         William  Hamilton  Gibson 

of  his  genius  and  the  love  and  thanks  of  multitudes 
whose  lives  he  had  enriched  and  exalted  by  his 
work.  He  accomplished  what  he  set  out  to  do;  and 
I  say  his  victorious  life  is  in  that  respect  a  blessing  to 
us,  as  showing  for  our  encouragement,  in  these  days 
of  change  and  failure,  that  a  man  may  still  be  lord  of 
his  circumstances,  and,  as  in  the  affairs  of  the  heart, 
so  also  in  the  affairs  of  business,  may  win  and  wear 
his  first  love. 

"But  some  men  gain  their  victories  at  heavy  cost, 
and  bear  always  the  scars  of  the  conflict.  Not  so  he. 
His  was  a  harmonious,  happy  life,  attuned  to  love  and 
beauty  and  peace,  and  aflame  with  joy.  And  for  this 
reason  it  was  a  fruitful  and  helpful  life.  There  was 
no  power  wasted  in  friction  or  in  blind  resistance. 
He  breasted  waves  of  difficulty  like  a  strong,  exultant 
swimmer  cleaving  his  way  through  the  opposing 
element.  Like  some  gay  knight  of  chivalry,  he  went 
into  battle  with  a  song.  And  whithersoever  he  came 
— handsome,  eager,  sympathetic,  debonair — he  was 
the  bringer  of  gladness. 

' '  Because  he  wrought  in  an  atmosphere  of  joy,  his  life 
was  peculiarly  fruitful  and  helpful.  The  record  of  what 
he  accomplished  is  indeed  amazing.  I  do  not  hesitate 
to  say  that  only  a  happy  man  could  do  so  much  so 
well.  And  that  same  joyous  spirit  made  him  a  wel- 
come guest  at  every  fireside  and  in  every  heart.  What 
a  delightful  companion  he  was  !  How  many  thousands 


Afterglow  243 

who  never  saw  his  face  have  nevertheless  found  in  his 
pictures  and  his  books  that  bright  companionship  !  Is 
there  anything  which  the  world  needs  so  deeply  or 
welcomes  so  heartily  as  such  a  messenger  of  hope  and 
cheer  ? 

"In  another  respect  this  life  was  a  boon  to  us.  It 
was  a  simple  and  sincere  life,  frankly  and  fully  expres- 
sive of  character.  Many  good  and  dear  people  are  so 
reserved  or  so  disguised  that  their  nearest  friends  do 
not  know  them  truly.  And  when  we  meet  them, 
some  day,  in  the  land  where  we  shall  know  as  we  are 
known,  we  shall  have  to  make  acquaintance  with  them 
anew,  on  the  basis  of  the  revelation  of  their  real  selves. 
But  some  there  are,  whose  lives  express  their  souls. 
Heaven  can  only  make  more  radiant  in  them  the  fea- 
tures that  we  know  already.  Will  Gibson  will  be 
'Our  Will'  forever,  as  he  is  ours  to-day,  though 
death  has  clothed  the  dear  face  in  the  strange,  new 
'  light  that  never  was  on  land  or  sea. '  God  be  thanked 
for  a  transparent  life  ! 

"  But  transparent  does  not  mean  shallow.  This  life 
was  deep  and  strong,  because  it  was  a  life  of  all-em- 
bracing love  and  sympathy,  and  carried  the  volume  and 
energy  of  that  spirit,  receiving  also  in  return,  to  swell 
its  own  current,  the  tributary  recognition  of  a  wider 
realm  than  that  of  the  human  race.  We  indeed  loved 
him,  as  he  loved  us  ;  but  there  are  many,  thank  God  ! 
of  whom  so  much  can  be  said.  The  same  principle  is 


244        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

exhibited  by  few  in  their  relations  to  the  non-human 
world  of  life  ;  and  when  we  see  its  manifestations,  we 
are  astonished  or  incredulous.  I  could  tell  you  many 
stories  of  the  magnetic  attraction  which  this  true  lover 
exerted  over  wild  creatures. 

"I  remember  that  once,  when  Dr.  Lyman  Abbott 
was  visiting  him  here  in  Washington,  he  pointed  out  a 
little  brown  bird  in  a  tree,  just  over  his  head,  and 
while  he  talked,  in  his  own  charming  enthusiastic  way, 
about  the  markings  of  its  plumage,  reached  up  into  the 
tree,  took  the  bird  from  the  bough,  held  it  in  his  hand 
to  illustrate  his  impromptu  lecture,  and  then  replaced 
it,  unharmed  and  unaffrighted,  upon  its  shady  perch. 

"Perhaps  that  bird,  dwelling  near  his  home,  knew 
him  already.  But  there  could  be  no  such  explanation 
of  the  incident  which  occurred  far  from  here,  when 
Mr.  Gibson,  sitting  with  friends  on  a  hotel  piazza, 
called  their  attention  to  a  humming-bird,  hovering 
over  the  flowers  before  them,  and  saying,  'Would 
you  like  to  see  him  nearer?'  put  out  his  hand,  and 
the  little  creature,  who  would  scarcely  light  on  a  blos- 
som, rested  upon  the  finger  of  his  new  friend,  and 
submitted  to  the  inspection  of  human  eyes.  Mr.  Gib- 
son was  himself  amazed  at  this  proof  of  spontaneous 
trust. 

"He  used  to  tell,  with  a  sort  of  thankful  awe,  how 
one  day,  in  Brooklyn,  he  went  through  crowded, 
noisy  streets  to  register  his  name  as  a  voter,  in  one  of 


Afterglow  245 

those  barren,  unattractive  places  which  are  ordinarily 
rented  by  the  State  for  this  temporary  purpose  ;  and 
how,  as  he  stood  there  in  a  group  of  men,  waiting  for  his 
turn,  a  white  dove  flew  in  from  the  street,  circled 
round  the  dingy  room,  alighted  upon  his  shoulder, 
received  with  murmuring  delight  his  caresses,  and 
then  flew  out.  No  one  knew  whence  it  came  or 
whither  it  went. 

"  And  he  told  also,  how  once  he  went  into  the  Brook- 
lyn Library,  to  examine  a  colored  plate,  representing 
a  certain  butterfly,  which  he  wished  to  reproduce  in 
illustration  of  an  article  ;  and  how,  as  he  stood  with 
the  book  open  before  him,  in  the  dim  little  corner-al- 
cove which  used  to  be  the  office  of  his  friend  Mr. 
Bardwell,  the  librarian,  a  butterfly  of  that  very  species 
fluttered  around  the  great  hall  into  the  alcove,  and, 
hovering  above  his  head,  dropped  at  last  upon  the 
book,  and  folded  its  wings  by  the  side  of  its  own 
pictures. 

"We  smile  at  such  coincidences;  but  the  fact  that 
they  happen  over  and  over  again  to  one  man  suggests 
a  coincidence  beyond  a  mere  accident — a  coincidence 
of  life  with  life  and  love  with  answering  love.  Indeed, 
what  do  we  know  of  these  wild  creatures  that  sur- 
round us,  and  seem  to  be  drawn  so  easily  to  some  of 
us  ?  What  have  we  done  to  lead  us  to  know  them  ? 
We  ignore  them,  or  we  chase  and  trap  and  slay  them, 
or  we  imprison  them  and  play  with  them  for  our  own 


246        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

amusement.  How  would  it  be  if  we  truly  and  un- 
selfishly loved  them  ? 

"The  apostle  represents  the  whole  creation  as 
groaning  and  travailing  in  pain,  waiting  for  some  new 
manifestation  of  the  human  children  of  God.  And  the 
last  word  of  our  Master  bids  us  go  into  all  the  world 
and  tell  the  glad  tidings,  not  merely  to  every  man,  but 
to  'every  creature.'  Is  there  not,  then,  an  evangel 
of  joy  for  those  humbler  companions  of  mankind? 
When  men  shall  have  advanced  so  far  as  to  cease 
hating  and  oppressing  one  another,  may  they  not  still 
advance  to  a  true  sympathy  with  all  living  things  ? 
And  would  not  that  make  indeed  a  new  heaven  and 
a  new  earth,  populous  with  friendships  ?  Of  such  a 
joyous  consummation,  men  like  our  brother  whose  life 
we  celebrate  to-day  are  prophets  and  forerunners. 
Thank  God  for  them  ! 

"And  they  may  also  encourage  us  to  stimulate  a 
love  of  nature  in  our  growing  children.  We,  who 
have  formed  our  habits  of  human  exclusiveness,  can- 
not say  to  ourselves  in  momentary  enthusiasm,  '  Let 
us  be  as  Will  Gibson  was  !  Let  us  begin  at  once  to 
cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  all  living  things  ! '  We 
have  outgrown  the  art.  We  stand  embarrassed  in  the 
presence  of  a  squirrel  or  a  bird,  and,  far  from  knowing 
how  to  attract  it,  are  fain  to  be  satisfied  if,  by  doing 
nothing  at  all,  we  avoid  scaring  it.  But  our  children, 
rightly  encouraged,  may  develop  unsuspected  powers 


Afterglow  247 

of  sympathy.  In  the  great  blessing  which  Mr.  Gib- 
son's work  conferred  upon  us  all,  the  dear  old  Master 
of  the  Gunnery,  who  cherished  into  flame  the  spark 
of  his  first  inspiration,  lived,  and  still  lives,  to  see  the 
reward  of  his  own  loving  labors. 

"  But  in  another  and  yet  higher  aspect,  this  life  was 
a  precious  gift  to  us  by  virtue  of  its  strong  support  to 
our  faith  in  immortality.  If  all  men  died  in  old  age, 
and  by  slow  decay  of  strength  and  faculty,  it  might 
be  hard  to  imagine  the  new  birth  and  new  beginning 
which  should  rejuvenate  them.  But  when  a  vigorous, 
full  life  is  withdrawn  from  our  sight  in  the  prime  of 
its  power,  the  very  momentum  of  it  carries  our  faith 
forward  with  it.  It  is  like  an  arrow,  shot  towards  the 
forest  by  a  strong-armed  archer.  Has  it  ceased  to 
move  because,  in  swift  mid-flight,  it  enters  the  shad- 
ow and  we  suddenly  lose  sight  of  it  ? 

"  'The  avalanche  that  has  slid  a  mile  will  not  stop 
for  a  tombstone  ! ' 

"  Still  another  hint  of  immortality — and  a  truer 
one — is  given  by  the  character  developed  in  earthly 
life.  Science,  it  is  true,  affords  us,  as  yet,  no  demon- 
stration of  a  future  life.  Perhaps  we  shall  always 
rest  for  that  truth,  as  we  do  to-day,  upon  the  word 
of  our  Lord,  who  went  and  came  so  easily  between 
the  two  chambers  of  the  Father's  house.  Yet  science 
has  done  much  in  these  later  times  to  illuminate  His 
declaration.  It  has  hinted  to  us  a  God,  patient  and 


248        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

tender  through  the  ages  of  ages,  carrying  the  world 
upon  His  bosom  and  nursing  its  slow  growth,  from 
stage  to  stage,  through  crystal,  cell,  and  soul,  that  He 
might  at  last  fill  the  spaces  immeasurable  with  loving 
and  beloved  human  souls,  as  dear  companions  of 
Himself.  He  cannot  afford,  it  seems  to  us,  to  destroy 
perpetually  the  fairest  fruits  of  this  long  preparation. 
They  have  lain  upon  His  heart  and  felt  the  pulse-beat 
of  the  Universe.  He  is  no  Arabian  tyrant,  to  slay 
them  one  by  one,  every  morning.  Having  loved  His 
own,  He  loves  them  to  the  end,  and  beyond  the 
seeming  end — for  love  is  immortality.  Our  brother, 
who  knew  and  loved  every  one  of  God's  trees  on 
these  hills  of  Washington, — shall  he  not  have  access 
to  the  Trees  of  Life,  that  grow  by  the  River  of  Life  ? 
Shall  his  spirit,  attuned  already  to  the  divine  harmo- 
nies of  earth,  be  dumb  amid  the  songs  of  heaven  ? 
Nay  ;  such  completed  souls  declare  the  Life  Eternal, 
echoing  to  us  the  Master's  word  of  hope  :  '  I  live  ; 
and  because  I  live,  ye  shall  live  also ! ' 

"  For  this  life  of  his  was  already  a  life  with  God. 
You  will  not  misunderstand  me,  if  I  say  little  of  that 
part  of  his  religious  experience  which  is  common  to 
all  believers,  or  of  that  part  of  his  work  which  we 
technically  call  Christian  work.  It  is  not  because  I 
undervalue  repentance,  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  or  com- 
munion and  co-operation  with  His  visible  church  on 
earth.  Still  less  is  it  because  I  need  to  make  out,  in 


-00    a 
§  -S 


Afterglow  249 

behalf  of  one  who  found  his  religion  in  nature  and 
science  and  art,  a  claim  to  be  considered  as  religious  in 
some  exceptional  and  peculiar  way.  I  could  dwell  on 
Mr.  Gibson's  earnest  labors  as  a  member  of  our 
Plymouth  Church  in  Brooklyn,  as  an  officer  of  one  of 
our  mission-schools,  as  a  leader  of  its  prayer-meet- 
ings, and  as  a  hearty  supporter  of  all  its  social  and  re- 
ligious enterprises. 

"Nor  shall  I  speak  of  what  he  was  to  his  dearest,  in 
the  household.  Some  of  us  are  better  at  home  than 
abroad;  some  of  us  are  less  attractive  to  those  who 
know  us  best.  I  can  only  say  of  him,  that  his  bright, 
warm,  transparent  nature  was  the  same  inside  his 
house  as  out  of  it;  only,  they  who  knew  him  best  re- 
ceived more  radiance  and  inspiration  than  others.  I 
bid  them  join  in  our  thanksgiving  most  heartily,  who 
have  been  most  highly  blest.  Every  stone  in  this 
beautiful  dwelling,  every  picture  on  its  walls,  every 
fairer  picture  seen  through  its  windows,  bears  per- 
petual witness  of  his  presence  and  influence.  And  in 
more  real  and  immediate  truth,  his  spirit  abides  and 
will  abide  here.  I  know  it  was  said,  '  The  Lord  gave, 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away.'  But  that  was  said 
in  the  old,  old  days,  before  the  light  celestial  had 
broken  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
Now  we  hear  a  Voice,  saying,  'Not  as  the  world 
giveth,  give  I.  What  I  give,  I  take  not  away ! ' 

"  But  turning  from  these  views,  without  underrating 


250       William  Hamilton  Gibson 

them,  I  wish  to  emphasize,  in  addition  to  his  love  and 
service  in  church  and  home,  Mr.  Gibson's  peculiar 
communion  with  God  in  nature. 

"  Years  ago,  his  studio  here  in  Washington  was  in 
the  same  house  with  the  study  of  Mr.  Turner,  then 
pastor  of  the  church.  It  was  a  happy  association  for 
both,  and  gave  rise  to  many  a  mutual  confidence. 
And  yesterday,  talking  over  with  me  the  experience 
of  those  days,  Mr.  Turner  spoke  a  deep,  true  word  when 
he  said,  *  I  always  felt  concerning  Mr.  Gibson  that  he 
walked  with  God.' 

"We  are  accustomed  to  think  of  those  saints  whose 
communion  is  close  with  God  that  they  sit  and  medi- 
tate, or  kneel  and  pray,  or  in  some  way  withdraw 
themselves  from  distracting  sights  and  sounds,  in 
order  to  be  alone  in  the  Divine  presence.  Perhaps 
we  do  not  conceive  of  walking  with  God  as  one 
would  walk  with  the  owner  of  a  great  estate,  and 
hear  him  tell  what  he  had  done  or  meant  to  do  with 
this  field  or  that.  We  forget,  perhaps,  that  God  is  in 
His  world,  and  that  whoso  would  keep  company  with 
Him  must  find  Him  there. 

"  It  was  of  Enoch  that  it  was  first  said,  '  He  walked 
with  God';  and  in  the  'Book  of  Enoch,'  which  was 
so  popular  a  book  in  the  time  of  Christ,  and  is  quoted 
in  the  New  Testament,  the  patriarch  is  in  fact  repre- 
sented as  guided  by  God  upon  a  journey  through  the 
universe.  It  was  thus  that  our  friend  walked  with  God. 


Afterglow  251 


"  He  walked,  the  friend  of  every  life 
In  flower  or  insect,  beast  or  bird; 
He  knew  their  pleasure  and  their  strife 
Their  sorrows  shared,  their  secrets  heard. 

"  Bending  their  leafy  diadems, 
The  trees  to  him  a  welcome  breathed; 
The  blossoms  on  a  thousand  stems 
To  him  their  deepest  hearts  unsheathed. 

"  The  bright-eyed  squirrel  showed  him  where 
Its  highway  ran  along  the  fence, 
And,  inly  glad  to  see  him  there, 
Fled,  not  too  far,  in  shy  pretence. 

"  The  tilting  songster  on  the  bough, 
The  callow  nestling  in  its  place, 
With  quick  perception  learned  to  know 
This  lover  of  their  hunted  race. 

"  Around  him,  like  an  angel  throng, 
The  countless  host  of  gauzy  things, 
With  airy  flight  and  murmurous  song 
Unfurled  the  glories  of  their  wings. 

"  For  the  world's  life  within  him  thrilled; 
And  every  earthly  path  he  trod 
To  his  responsive  soul  was  filled 
With  works  and  ways  and  words  of  God. 

"  Then  spake  a  dearer  voice:  '  My  son, 
A  life  yet  wider  shalt  thou  see; 
Leave  these  fair  hills  of  Washington 
And  walk  on  fairer  hills  with  Me! ' 

"Amen!    So  may  we  walk  with  God!" 


Other  tributes  were  no  less  appreciative,  and  may 
serve  as  side-lights  upon  his  inner  and  personal  life. 
They  show  how  he  impressed  many  men  and  many 


252        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

minds,  in  various  and  yet  concurrent  ways.  Mr. 
Clarence  Deming,  speaking  to  the  friends  and  grad- 
uates of  the  "Gunnery"  school,  emphasized  the 
traits  in  which  he  was  a  type  of  the  best  forces 
inherited  from  his  early  training. 

"And  so  to-night  it  is  not  Gibson  the  writer,  Gib- 
son the  nature-lover  and  nature-hunter,  and  Gibson 
the  artist,  whom  we  should  be  recalling,  so  much  as 
Gibson  the  man ;  and  the  thought  persistently  comes 
back  to  me  over  and  over  again  that  he  was  our 
greatest  Gunnery  boy,  not  merely  in  reputation  before 
the  world,  not  by  virtue  of  pen  and  brush,  but  by  the 
fact  that  he  was  the  perfect  and  consummate  product 
of  the  old  Gunnery  scheme  of  education,  and  a  kind 
of  analogue  of  Mr.  Gunn  himself.  If  there  was  one 
thing  sought  by  Mr.  Gunn  most  strenuously  it  was 
the  seeding  in  a  boy  of  those  qualities  which  in  him, 
as  man,  should  fruit  into  that  grandest  trait  expressed 
in  the  English  tongue  by  the  word  character.  It  is  a 
subtle  term,  hard  to  define  and  to  expound.  I  can, 
perhaps,  call  it  the  power  in  man  compounded  by 
nerve  force,  habit,  and  conscience  which  makes  him 
fearlessly  righteous  and  sets  him  among  his  fellow- 
men  in  organized  society  as  a  living  and  forceful 
influence,  ever  active  for  things  good. 

"Now,  I  repeat,  it  is  on  that  phase  of  Gibson's  per- 
sonality and  life  work  that  I  love  to  think,  and  to  recall 
him  as  our  loftiest  incarnation  of  Gunnery  character. 


Afterglow  253 

He,  perhaps,  lacked  the  initiative  force  of  Mr.  Gunn, 
but  when  it  came  to  the  test  of  principle  not  even  our 
old  master  surpassed  the  pupil.  Do  you  remember 
how  outspoken  Gibson  was  when  it  came  to  any 
question  of  wrong  ?  Do  you  recall  how  no  form  of 
trickery  or  meanness,  either  in  individual  conduct  or 
in  public  life,  failed  to  meet  his  contempt  and  his 
scorn  ?  What  one  of  us,  in  that  life  of  his,  passed,  so 
much  of  it,  in  this  community,  can  put  the  finger  on 
one  questionable  word  or  act  ?  When  we  can  pay 
such  tribute  to  a  departed  friend,  I  care  not  what  his 
genius  may  have  been,  how  far  and  wide  his  fame 
may  have  blown,  or  how  long  the  mere  work  of  hand 
and  brain  may  endure,  he  has  builded  a  monument  set 
firmer  than  granite  or  marble  in  the  service  of  his 
generation,  and  of  the  generations  to  come. 

"That  strong  character  of  Gibson  revealed  itself  to 
me  in  many  ways.  In  politics,  for  example,  his  path 
and  my  own  on  national  questions  often  diverged. 
Yet  in  talks  with  him  on  that  subject,  most  impressive 
was  the  revelation  of  his  bed-rock  sincerity  of  convic- 
tion ;  and  never  did  that  conviction  fail  to  be  enthused 
with  the  profoundest  patriotism  of  motive.  Take  a 
somewhat  narrower  civic  question,  that  of  municipal 
reform,  a  theme  as  to  which  by  the  nature  of  personal 
vocation  I  have  heard  many  men  and  met  many  and 
varied  views.  But  never  have  I  found  a  man  who  dis- 
cussed that  topic  more  intelligently,  more  broadly, 


254        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

and  more  often  striking  the  keynote  of  progress  than 
Gibson,  whom  the  public  and  not  a  few  friends, 
doubtless,  have  associated  only  with  the  hunt  for  na- 
ture's secrets  in  the  flower,  the  leaf,  and  the  marvels 
of  insect  life. 

"Or  let  us  take  one  other  outward  expression  of 
that  strong  public  character  of  his.  It  was  a  primal 
motif  in  such  a  man  to  love  the  simplicities,  and  you 
will  all  remember  as  one  vivid  phase  of  it  his  intense 
desire  to  preserve  the  sweet  and  unaffected  com- 
munity life  which  has  so  long  marked  this  village. 
He  had  seen  how  the  wave  of  fashion  and  of  assertive 
and  ostentatious  wealth  had  overcast  those  New  Eng- 
land towns  for  which  nature  had  done  most,  and 
how  the  supreme  triumph  of  the  French  modiste,  the 
babble  of  the  four-o'clock  tea,  and  the  vanities  of  so- 
called  '  good  '  society  had  come  to  satirize  the  sum- 
mer charms  of  mountain  and  river  and  vale.  Hence 
that  aggressive  desire  of  his,  expressed  alike  in  word 
and  act,  to  conserve  in  their  old  simplicity  and  free- 
dom the  customs  which  we  as  Gunnery  boys  enjoyed 
in  this  gracious  village.  Though  he  be  dead,  that 
example  and  precept  of  his  yet  appeal  to  us. 

"Many  years  ago  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  pres- 
ent in  Westminster  Chapter  House  at  a  meeting  to 
open  a  fund  for  a  memorial  to  Dean  Stanley.  Among 
the  speakers  was  James  Russell  Lowell,  then  our  min- 


Afterglow  255 

ister  at  St.  James's,  and  he  referred  to  an  epitaph  in 
a  Boston  churchyard  as  descriptive  of  Dean  Stanley's 
character.  That  epitaph  was  simply,  'He  was  so 
pleasant/  Many  times  have  I  reflected  how  well 
that  idea  described  one  large  side  of  Gibson's  nature. 
1  He  was  so  pleasant,'  so  jocund,  so  genial,  so  appre- 
ciative of  humor.  One  outward  token  of  the  trait 
familiar  to  us  all  was  his  quick  grasp  of  the  funny 
things  to  be  found  in  this  rural  New  England  of  ours. 
We  know — and  by  '  we '  I  mean  especially  those  of 
us  in  middle  life  or  beyond— what  a  wealth  of  oddity 
in  phrase  and  habit  our  country  New  Englanders  have 
amassed.  Time  was  when  each  Yankee  village  had 
its  quaint  and  curious  characters,  but  now,  with  edu- 
cation and  contact  with  the  world,  they  are  dying 
away,  and  the  next  generation  will  see  few  or  none 
save  as  they  survive  in  literature.  In  personal  forms 
Gibson  rescued  from  oblivion  many  of  those  charac- 
ters who  went  into  his  books,  but  the  draft  was%small 
on  his  collection  of  Yankee  epigram  and  oddity  which 
never  reached  the  types.  I  can  see  him  in  memory 
now,  with  his  rich  gift  of  mimicry,  repeating  the 
bucolic  joke,  or,  may  be,  in  smiling  silence  listening 
at  the  post-office  as  the  country  sage  expounds  his 
original  views  from  the  bema  of  the  barrel-head. 

"Of  Gibson's  sweet  home  life,  of  his  love  of  wife 
and  family,  of  his  kind  hospitality,  of  his  sacred  per- 
sonal friendships,  it  is  not  for  me  to  speak  in  detail 


256        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

here.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  they  rounded  out  with 
rare  and  beautiful  symmetry  that  splendid  life  of  his 
as  artist,  writer,  prose-poet,  investigator,  good  citizen, 
and  man.  In  this  village  of  his  love,  so  endeared  to 
him  as  summer  home,  and  from  which,  as  a  Gunnery 
boy,  he  drew  so  much  of  moral  inspiration  and 
strength,  no  vain  words  of  mine  need  voice  him,  nor 
can  language  of  tongue  or  pen  measure  the  void  which 
he  has  left  behind.  Washington,  indeed,  is  not  the 
same  with  Gibson  gone,  and  has  but  the  sad  boon  of 
still  clasping  him,  mother-like,  on  the  green  slope 
which  looks  off  to  the  valley  of  the  sunset  shadows 
which  he  loved  so  well.  We  miss,  yet  meet  him,  in 
every  nook,  in  the  waving  tree-tops,  the  swaying 
flower  by  the  rippling  stream,  in  the  butterfly  that  flits 
by  in  the  sunlight.  How  well  with  trifling  verbal 
change  do  those  lines  of  Whittier  fit  our  loss : 

"  '  But  still  we  wait  with  ear  and  eye 

For  something  gone  which  should  be  nigh, 

A  loss  in  all  familiar  things, 

In  flower  that  blooms  and  bird  that  sings. 

And  while  in  life's  late  afternoon, 

Where  cool  and  long  the  shadows  grow, 
We  walk  to  meet  the  night  that  soon 

Shall  shape  and  shadow  overflow, 
We  cannot  feel  that  thou  art  far, 

Since  near  at  need  the  angels  are  ; 
And  when  the  sunset  gates  unbar, 

Shall  we  not  see  thee  waiting  stand, 
And,  white  against  the  evening  star, 

The  welcome  of  thy  beckoning  hand  ?  '  " 


Afterglow  257 

President  Almon  Gunnison,  of  St.  Lawrence  Uni- 
versity, speaking  out  of  a  long  and  intimate  acquaint- 
ance in  Brooklyn,  wrote  of  him,  a  few  weeks  after 
his  death : 

"  There  have  been  few  men  of  larger  manhood  than 
this  poet-artist,  this  seer  and  interpreter  of  nature.  He 
was  open-minded  and  trustful  as  a  child.  He  loved 
everything  that  was  manly,  and  his  sense  of  right  was 
an  instinct  and  a  passion.  He  was  tolerant  in  faith 
and  scorned  all  narrowness.  Reverent,  worshipful,  a 
lover  of  God  and  man.  Not  since  Gilbert  White  of 
Selborne  died  has  there  lived  one  who  more  minutely 
discerned  nature,  and  never  has  there  been  one  more 
downed  to  interpret  her.  Thoreau  had  equal  skill  of 
vision  and  perhaps  larger  grace  of  literary  expression. 
Burroughs  has  the  same  order  of  discernment,  and 
a  like  art  to  make  nature  interpret  her  lessons  in  her 
own  words.  But  Gibson  was  poet  and  artist  too;  he 
could  sing  the  song  of  the  daisy  with  almost  the 
melody  of  Burns,  and  could  with  his  deft  pencil  depict 
the  highway  of  the  squirrel  so  cleverly  that  one  could 
hear  the  echoes  of  its  steps,  and  picture  the  hues  of 
the  flowers  so  that  one  could  almost  smell  the  fra- 
grance of  their  blossoms.  He  was  the  most  versatile 
of  men.  He  was  a  stranger  to  no  form  of  art.  With 
pencil  and  with  brush,  with  every  form  of  pigment, 
he  was  the  master,  and  with  the  candle's  smoke  he 

made  weird  pictures  which  startled  admiration.     He 
17 


258        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

was  skilled  in  every  mechanical  device.  He  had  most 
curious  charts  with  cunning  contrivances,  strings  and 
pulleys,  by  which  he  illustrated  the  fertilization  of 
plants,  and  would  shoot  the  pollen  and  would  have 
curious  insects  flying  in  the  air,  to  show  how  nature 
provided  for  the  perpetuation  of  her  growths.  His 
studio  was  a  museum  of  the  mechanics  of  art,  and 
had  he  chosen  he  could  have  excelled  in  many  lines  of 
inventive  skill.  He  loved  Nature  in  all  her  variant 
moods  and  forms.  There  was  no  flower  that  he  could 
not  call  by  name,  and  not  a  weed  held  the  secret  of  its 
life  inviolate  from  him.  He  could  answer  'Yes'  to 
the  poet's  question,  '  Canst  thou  name  the  birds  with- 
out a  gun  ? '  ;  he  could  go  into  the  forest  and  the 
birds  would  come  at  his  caressing  call;  he  could  see 
into  the  very  heart  of  every  flower,  and  could  write 
the  flora  of  every  State.  He  loved  Nature,  too,  in  her 
larger  forms.  The  mountains  awed  and  the  sea 
thrilled  him  with  their  immensities.  He  could  set  the 
song  of  the  brook  to  music,  and  write  out  the  melody 
of  rivers  in  his  symphonies.  How  well  do  we  re- 
member his  telling  us  of  the  book  which  he  would 
sometime  make,  but  which,  alas!  he  never  made.  It 
should  be  the  biography  of  the  water  drop,  and  with 
pencil  and  with  words  he  would  tell  the  story  of  the 
water  in  its  passage  from  the  clouds  to  the  sea. 

"He  would  picture  the  clouds  and  the  mists,  the 
mountain-tops  arresting  the  fogs  and  condensing  them 


Afterglow  259 

with  its  ledges;  the  little  springs  which  run  among 
the  hills,  the  river's  cradle  among  the  rocks,  the  tiny 
brook  descending  over  the  desolation  of  the  heights, 
the  brooklet  entering  the  forest,  the  mossy  coverts, 
the  fern-covered  banks,  the  shadowing  trees,  the 
twisting,  turning  stream,  winding  downward  amidst 
tawny  rocks,  jumping  over  cataracts  and  falls,  then 
emerging  into  the  lower  pasture  slopes,  with  cattle 
drinking  at  its  banks,  and  then  the  meadows  with 
great  sweeping  branches  of  overhanging  trees,  the 
vexing  wheels  of  mills,  the  larger  and  larger  river,  and 
then  the  city  with  its  grime,  and  beyond,  the  sea,  with 
its  mighty  ships  sailing  to  far  Cathay.  And  how  his 
wondrous  eyes,  which  had  the  luminousness  but 
never  the  passion  of  the  flame,  used  to  glow  as  he 
talked  of  Nature  and  of  the  secrets  that  she  told  him 
and  of  the  apostleship  he  held  to  make  the  great  world 
see  and  love  Nature  with  something  of  his  idolatry. 
He  kept  the  gladness  of  his  youth  and  was  never  won 
away  from  the  paths  in  which  his  boyish  feet  had 
strayed.  That  wondrous  picture-making  period  of 
boyhood  ever  held  his  soul  in  thrall.  He  lived  in  the 
city,  for  he  was  the  busiest  worker  among  men,  but  the 
roots  of  his  heart  were  tangled  with  the  grasses  of 
the  sunlit  pastures  where  his  youth  had  been.  When 
the  sun's  rays  lengthened  over  the  noisy  city,  with  the 
swiftness  of  the  arrow's  flight  from  a  Tartar's  bow 
he  sought  the  old  scenes,  and  there  at  length  when 


260        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

favoring  fortune  came,  he  built  his  home,  and  when 
death  wanted  him  she  sought  him  there,  and  there 
she  found  him." 

The  minute  prepared  for  the  Century  Club  of  New 
York  City  was  more  than  a  perfunctory  record,  and 
witnesses  to  the  high  esteem  in  which  the  members 
held  him: 

"WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON,  distinguished  alike  as 
an  artist,  an  author,  and  an  illustrator,  had  risen  by  un- 
wonted industry,  native  talent,  and  a  tireless  enthusi- 
asm to  a  high  place  in  the  esteem  of  the  lovers  of 
nature  and  the  admirers  of  true  art.  He  was  recog- 
nized as  an  artist  with  the  pen  as  well  as  with  the 
pencil,  and  entitled  to  a  place  among  those  enthusi- 
astic naturalists  who  have  the  skill  in  words  to  impart 
their  enthusiasm.  His  'Highways  and  Byways,' 
'  Pastoral  Days,'  the  '  Heart  of  the  White  Mountains,' 
'Nature's  Serial  Story,'  'Camp  Life  in  the  Woods,' 
'Trapping  and  Trap  Making,'  'Happy  Hunting 
Grounds,'  and  many  other  books,  all  illustrated  by 
himself,  showed  his  scientific  exactitude  and  his  artis- 
tic quality.  His  illustrated  article  in  the  last  number 
of  '  Harper's  Magazine '  seems  like  a  farewell  message 
from  him  in  another  world.  He  was  also  a  noted 
water-colorist,  and,  in  later  years,  a  popular  lecturer 
on  natural  history. 

"  His  facility  of  expression  and  ingenious  illustration 
of  his  subject  by  his  crayon  and  mechanical  appliances 


Afterglow  261 

instructed  and  entertained  his  audiences,  and  no  man 
had  appeared  in  this  field  since  Agassiz  with  such 
success  as  met  him.  There  was  a  charm  in  his  per- 
sonality from  the  earnestness  and  kindliness  of  his 
nature,  and  the  number  of  those  who  mourn  his 
early  death  is  not  confined  to  his  personal  friends 
alone. 

"  Pleasant  and  unfading  memories  mingle  with  our 
regrets  at  parting  with  those  whose  names  are  re- 
corded here.  They  were  men  without  exception 
worthy,  true,  and  of  good  report.  May  we  not  say, 
as  their  survivors,  and  conscious  of  our  failings — 

"  '  Our  lives  are  albums  written  through, 
With  good  or  ill,  with  false  or  true, 
And  as  the  blessed  angels  turn 
The  pages  of  our  years, 
God  grant  they  read  the  good  with  smiles 
And  blot  the  ill  with  tears.' 

"  HENRY  E.  HOWLAND, 

"  Secretary. 
"  CENTURY  CLUB  HOUSE, 

"  NEW  YORK,  January  9th,  1897." 

Other  phases  of  his  versatile  spirit  are  noted  by  Mr. 
Alexander  Black: 

"  I  first  met  Mr.  Gibson  at  the  Authors  Club  in  the 
old  rooms  on  Twenty-fourth  Street.  At  that  time  he 
was  a  regular  attendant  at  the  meetings,  and  he  re- 
mained among  the  faithful  until  his  lectures  began. 
Thereafter  he  came,  I  fancy,  whenever  he  was  free  to 


262        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

come,  and  found  a  stimulating  enjoyment  in  meeting 
his  fellow-craftsmen,  literary  and  artistic,  with  whom 
at  all  times  he  had  a  hearty  frankness  of  cordiality  that 
made  him  an  always-welcome  figure  in  this  singularly 
democratic  group.  At  times  I  found  him  pulling  at  a 
'long  Tom,'  generally,  as  he  put  it,  'in  self-defense/ 
for  we  hovered  in  a  deep  fog  of  smoke.  After  I  my- 
self had  been  elected  to  the  Club  (in  1888)  we  met 
regularly  in  this  literary  aerie,  and  endured  in  common 
the  recurrent  jest  inflicted  upon  those  who,  at  two 
A.M.,  still  had  to  make  a  homeward  journey  to  Brook- 
lyn,— an  infliction  which  fell  lightly  upon  me  when  I 
had  his  company  to  the  Bridge,  and  could  hear  him 
talk  of  the  flowers  and  their  insect  visitors,  or  the 
current  movements  of  art. 

"  I  believe  he  always  retained  an  affectionate  feeling 
for  the  Twenty-fourth  Street  quarters  of  the  Club, 
where  we  smoked,  ate  the  Captain's  salad,  told 
stories  (Gibson  not  a  poor  contributor),  seldom  talked 
shop,  and  certainly  never  were  literary  ;  where  we 
met  Lowell,  Stedman,  Boyesen,  Eggleston,  Grant 
White,  Godwin,  Stoddard,  Conway,  Jefferson,  Riley, 
Kipling,  Mitchell,  Hay,  St.  Gaudens — it  would  be  a 
long  and  an  interesting  list.  Mr.  Gibson's  genius  and 
personality  alike  attracted  to  him  the  attention  of  the 
choicest  spirits  in  a  gathering  of  this  kind.  He  al- 
ways had  a  fine  fund  of  that  quality  which  belongs  to 
genius — which  is  in  itself  a  genius — a  quality  of  youth- 


Afterglow  263 

ful  enjoyment  in  the  simpler  pleasures.  I  remember 
the  contagious  gusto  with  which,  on  a  certain  mem- 
orable Watch  Night,  he  told  the  company  a  ghost 
story  that  came  to  its  crisis  in  a  materialized  ghost  of 
his  own  making  which  he  had  concealed  under  his 
coat.  The  hoax  recalls  some  of  his  fun  at  Wash- 
ington village,  where  his  astonishing  mummy  with 
a  message  from  the  past  will  long  be  a  droll  tradition, 
and  where  there  is  a  lively  recollection  of  his  dashing 
horsemanship  on  a  wonderful  steed  with  a  feather- 
duster  tail  ! 

"I  heard  him  lecture  at  Washington  village  and 
shared  in  the  delight  of  an  audience  whose  youngest 
members  he  held  quite  as  closely  as  their  elders.  In- 
deed, I  never  have  known  in  any  department  of 
science  or  of  art  an  enthusiast  who  could  convey, 
with  an  utter  absence  of  academic  formality,  so  rich 
and  delightful  a  fund  of  information  and  suggestion. 
To  me  he  was  always  the  ideal  interpreter  of  nature. 
There  was  no  hint  of  book  covers  between.  He  did 
not  turn  to  and  from  his  theme  at  any  time.  It  was 
part  of  his  life — and  plainly  a  pleasant,  unstrenuous 
part  of  it.  In  the  woods,  in  his  garden,  on  the  quiet 
porch  overlooking  the  hillside  sumac,  he  spoke  of  a 
discovery  in  a  petal  or  in  the  habits  of  a  beetle  with 
that  charming  undidactic  delight  of  one  who  assumes 
that  all  must  have  a  common  pleasure  in  these  phases 
of  natural  life. 


264        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

"As  an  artist  he  was  quite  as  free  from  personal 
mannerisms  or  eccentricities.  When  I  first  visited  his 
studio  on  Montague  street,  Brooklyn,  he  talked  as  he 
worked — the  picture  was  an  illustration  to  one  of  his 
magazine  papers, — and  afterwards  turned  to  his  port- 
folio, quite  without  the  effect  of  entertaining  me,  but 
always  with  a  companionly  frankness  and  simplicity 
that  made  him  at  all  times  the  most  attractive  of  hosts. 
I  remember  his  house  studio  on  Lincoln  Place  by  but 
two  visits,  and  I  had  no  greater  acquaintance  with  the 
little  crib  at  the  foot  of  the  Washington  lawn.  I  think 
I  liked  the  dishevelled  workshop  at  Washington  best 
of  all. 

"Mr.  Gibson  never  permitted  the  very  handsome 
things  that  were  said  of  his  writings  to  disturb  his  re- 
lation to  his  artistic  ideals.  '  I  am  an  artist,'  he  said  to 
me  when  this  subject  came  up  between  us,  and  pro- 
found as  was  his  affection  for  plant  and  insect  life,  it 
was  as  an  artist  that  he  looked  across  the  leaping  lines 
of  this  Washington  country  ;  it  was  as  an  artist  that  he 
labored  to  transmit  with  his  brush  the  flame  colors  of 
autumn  or  the  lustrous  prophecies  of  spring.  The 
healthy  ideals  of  his  art  and  the  hearty  simplicity  of 
his  nature  are  to  be  read  in  the  unmannerish  charm  of 
his  pictures. 

"  Once  or  twice  we  met  on  the  trains  in  the  course 
of  our  lecturing  work.  He  had  stories  to  tell  me  of 
his  own  experiences  —  of  hardship,  of  accident,  of 


Afterglow  265 

humorous  incident.  Once  his  voice  left  him  so  com- 
pletely that  he  was  obliged  to  make  a  momentary  exit 
after  a  pantomimic  apology  to  the  audience.  On  the 
whole  I  think  that  he  greatly  enjoyed  his  lectures. 
Certainly  they  were  inspiringly  memorable  to  those 
who  were  privileged  to  hear  them. 

"When  I  recall  him  in  his  own  home  and  in  mine, 
I  have  before  me  a  splendidly  strong  head  and  figure. 
I  hear  his  strong  healthy  laugh.  I  see  his  broad 
shoulders  turned  to  me  as  he  sits  at  the  piano  playing 
the  '  Largo  '  with  a  full  singing  volume  of  tone.  His 
ear  was  so  keen  and  sympathetic  that  he  could  ex- 
press without  knowledge  of  notes  even  the  subtler 
harmonies  of  a  fragment  like  the  '  Largo,'  and  his 
playing  always  had  the  fascination  that  is  present  in 
the  interpretations  of  those  who  truly  love  music,  and 
who  find  in  an  instrument  a  companion  to  whom  they 
may  go  in  any  mood  with  certainty  of  response. 

"  The  news  of  his  death  brought  to  me  a  shock  and 
a  sense  of  bereavement  deeper  and  more  lasting  than 
any  I  had  known  for  many  years.  Here,  surely,  was 
a  fine  spirit,  a  lover  of  life  and  of  art,  and  an  exponent 
of  all  that  is  sanest  and  sweetest  in  both." 

It  was  four  years  after  his  death  that  the  Alumni 
and  friends  of  the  ''Gunnery"  school  completed  a 
memorial  of  Gibson  which  for  fitness  and  significance 
is  one  of  the  most  successful  in  America.  On  the  left  of 
the  road,  as  one  climbs  the  long  hill  from  the  railroad 


266        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

station  to  Washington  Green,  nearly  at  the  top  of 
the  slope,  there  stands  a  large  boulder,  a  little  back 
from  the  highway.  Here  it  was  determined  to  place 
a  bronze  medallion  in  bas-relief,  which  should  aim  to 
suggest  the  man  and  commemorate  his  relation  to  the 
little  town  which  he  so  loved  and  which  so  loved  him. 

The  report  of  Mr.  E.  K.  Rossiter,  made  to  the 
Alumni  Association,  tells  the  interesting  story  of  the 
inception  and  completion  of  this  loving  task,  whose 
results  will  be  an  enduring  memorial  of  this  inspiring 
life. 

"You  have  undoubtedly  all  heard  of  that  ideal 
committee  composed  of  three  persons — one  dead, 
one  in  Europe,  and  one  left  at  home  to  do  as  he 
pleased.  But  my  parallel,  if  I  draw  one  at  all,  must 
soon  end,  for  though  Mr.  Van  Ingen  is  to-day  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water,  the  other  two  members,  Dr. 
Lyman  Abbott  and  Dr.  Ludlow,  are  very  much  alive — 
as  proof  of  it,  I  would  refer  you  to  the  weekly  issue 
of  the  '  Outlook '  or  beg  you  to  attend  one  of  the 
good  Doctor's  sermons  at  Orange. 

"We  have  acted,  it  is  true,  at  arm's  length  from 
each  other  and  our  work  has  been  accomplished, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  without  so  much  as  once 
meeting  as  a  committee  of  the  Whole.  We  have, 
however,  been  in  frequent  correspondence  and  from 
the  beginning  there  has  been  nothing  but  a  unanimity 
of  feeling.  It  was  Dr.  Ludlow,  1  believe,  who  first 


I 

5 


SI 

I 

I 


Afterglow  267 

suggested  that  this  Memorial  take  the  form  of  a  bas- 
relief.  He  keenly  appreciated  the  fact,  as  did  we  all, 
that  Gibson  had  conferred,  through  his  work,  an  un- 
usual distinction  upon  our  little  town  and  having 
stood,  as  he  quoted  from  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  next 
to  Thoreau  in  his  appreciative  portrayal  of  nature  it 
was  not  only  fitting  but  incumbent  upon  us  that  he 
should  be  remembered  in  some  enduring  way  —  in 
some  way  that  would  enable  those  coming  after  to 
know  the  manner  of  man  he  was  to  us.  Therefore 
when  Mrs.  Van  Ingen  pointed  to  a  huge  boulder  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  Cemetery  nestling  among  the 
trees  he  loved  so  well,  there  seemed  nothing  further 
to  debate  beyond  securing  a  sculptor. 

"In  this  matter  it  was  deemed  essential  that  we 
should  find  one  who  knew  our  friend.  For  while  an 
artistic  success  might  readily  be  obtained  by  a  score 
of  men,  we  were  aware  that  that  indefinable  some- 
thing— that  quickening  spirit  animating  a  man's  whole 
being  and  constituting  his  personality — was  likely  to 
be  in  a  measure  lost  without  the  immediate  contact 
which  artists  seek.  It  was  just  here  that  our  good 
fortune  became  again  manifest ;  for  our  covetousness 
was  rewarded  by  finding  in  Mr.  Bush-Brown  the 
sculptor  of  our  search.  Behind  him  stood  the  per- 
sonal knowledge,  and,  what  was  equally  fortunate,  a 
most  excellent  photograph  by  Smales.  I  cannot  re- 
gard this  snap-shot  picture  other  than  a  portion  of  our 


268        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

rare  good  luck,  for  it  gives  us  Gibson  as  we  knew 
him — in  his  out-of-door  garb,  and  in  the  very  act,  too, 
of  his  devotion  to  nature.  It  has  enabled  the  modeler 
to  produce  a  likeness,  which  I  believe  future  genera- 
tions must  instinctively  feel  as  good — just  as  we  of 
to-day  looking  at  the  engraving  of  Shakespeare  in 
the  original  folio  edition  of  his  works  instinctively 
feel  it  is  scarcely  more  than  a  travesty  of  the  poet, 
that  man  of  infinite  fancy  and  wit.  But  since  Shake- 
speare's time,  the  graphic  arts  of  expression,  more 
particularly  of  engraving  have  progressed  to  such  a 
degree  of  perfection  that  it  is  quite  possible  now  to 
attain  to  the  subtlest  degree  of  an  artist's  thought. 
Likewise  in  sculpture  is  this  attainable — so  much  so 
that  we  shall  to-day  be  able  to  read  in  the  unveiled 
bronze  the  individual  characteristics  of  the  one  whom 
we  would  portray. 

"I  was  pleased  in  looking  at  the  Medallion  last 
week  to  discover  a  butterfly  hovering  over  the  con- 
volvulus vine  so  accurately  preserved  and  so  gracefully 
worked  into  the  composition — because  as  you  will  re- 
member this  was  the  emblem  of  immortality  with  the 
Greeks  —  a  most  appropriate  symbol,  too,  in  this  in- 
stance ;  for  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  Gibson  was 
in  spirit  a  good  deal  of  an  old  Greek  himself.  He 
"was  one  in  his  joyousness,  in  his  large  and  passionate 
appreciation  of  out-of-door  life,  and  more  than  all  in 
his  love  of  the  beautiful.  Beauty  of  form  and  color  as 


Afterglow  269 

he  saw  it  in  nature  was  a  sort  of  visible  divinity — a 
palpable  happiness,  heaven  come  down  to  earth  ;  he 
viewed  it  in  the  conception  of  Gautier,  the  French  poet 
— as  an  all-pervading  yet  delicate  mantle  let  down  by 
God  to  cover  the  nakedness  of  the  world  for  the  de- 
light of  his  children.  Of  this  mantle  he  always  found 
enough  to  clothe  his  pictures  with  poetic  truth,  nay, 
more,  for  into  the  fine  vesture  of  his  thought  he  fre- 
quently wove  a  scientific  fact  of  such  intrinsic  value 
as  to  win  renown  as  a  naturalist. 

"Other  boys  will  leave  this  Gunnery  and  we  hope 
win  as  distinguished  laurels  as  did  Gibson  ;  for  is  it 
not,  as  James  Russell  Lowell  has  said  of  Harvard,  all 
but  impossible  to  rub  up  against  these  walls  without 
taking  away  something  that  no  other  institution  can 
give  ?  But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  not  probable  that 
there  will  soon  be  found  among  the  Alumni  a  man  of 
such  rare  versatility.  The  combination  of  his  gifts 
has  been  recognized  far  beyond  the  confines  of  this 
little  hamlet  ;  but  because  it  was  here  that  he  began 
his  life's  work,  here  ended  it,  here  that  he  made  his 
home,  and  here  that  the  mortal  part  of  him  lies  near 
us,  it  seems  particularly  appropriate  we  should  erect 
an  enduring  memorial  to  his  worth.  For  how  few 
of  us  who  have  dipped  into  his  books  or  followed  him 
in  our  walks  but  can  repeat  the  words  of  the  blind 
man  of  old,  who  in  the  ecstasy  of  a  new  vision  cried 
'  Whereas  I  was  blind  now  I  see.' " 


WILLIAM  HAMILTON  GIBSON 

Who  Nature  loves  by  Nature  is  beloved. 

She  makes  him  gentle,  and  she  keeps  him  fair  ; 

By  woods  and  waters  where  her  treasures  are 
Within  his  hand  she  lays  a  hand  ungloved. 
For  him  no  stream  is  stopped,  no  mountain  moved, 

No  bird-song  hushed,  nor  any  branch  made  bare  ; 

Useless  the  archer's  shaft,  the  fowler's  snare  ; 
Nor  for  his  feet  is  any  pathway  grooved. 
So  Gibson  lived  and  wrote,  and  drew  and  dreamed, 

Whose  sun  too  early  dropped  adown  the  west, 
Whose  every  day  with  purest  visions  teemed, 

That  gave  another's  day  a  fresher  zest ; 
And  like  dear  Nature's  self  he  often  seemed 

To  draw  no  lines  twixt  labor,  play  and  rest 

ROSSITER  JOHNSON. 


271 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

OF   THE    WRITINGS    OF 

WILLIAM   HAMILTON   GIBSON 

"  The  Complete  American  Trapper."  New  York. 
James  Miller,  1876.  Republished  in  1878  by 
Bradley  &  Co.  Republished  in  1880  by  Harper 
and  Brothers,  under  the  title,  "Camp  Life  in  the 
Woods,  and  the  Tricks  of  Trapping  and  Trap- 
Making." 

"Pastoral  Days;  or,  Memories  of  a  New  England 
Year."  New  York.  Harper  and  Brothers,  1880. 

"Highways  and  Byways;  or,  Saunterings  in  New 
England."  New  York.  Harper  and  Brothers, 
1882. 

"  Happy  Hunting  Grounds  :  A  Tribute  to  the  Woods 
and  Fields."  New  York.  Harper  and  Brothers, 
1886. 

"Strolls  by  Starlight  and  Sunshine."  New  York. 
Harper  and  Brothers,  1890. 

"Sharp  Eyes:  A  Rambler's  Calendar  of  Fifty-two 
Weeks  among  Insects,  Birds  and  Flowers."  New 
York.  Harper  and  Brothers,  1891. 

"  Our  Edible  Mushrooms  and  Toadstools  and  How  to 

273 


274        William  Hamilton  Gibson 

Distinguish  Them."    New   York.     Harper  and 

Brothers,  1895. 
"  Eye  Spy  :  Afield  with  Nature  among  Flowers  and 

Animate  Things."      New   York.      Harper  and 

Brothers,  1897. 
"My  Studio  Neighbors."  New  York.  Harper  and 

Brothers,  1897. 

NOTE 

It  is  impossible  to  trace  or  to  enumerate  the  anony- 
mous and  fugitive  articles  scattered  through  the 
periodicals  and  other  publications  from  1 872.  The 
same  is  true  of  illustrations.  Gibson's  extraordi- 
nary productiveness  and  industry  enabled  him  to 
furnish  a  vast  amount  of  material  to  many  pub- 
lishers. Among  the  more  important  works 
which  he  illustrated,  wholly  or  in  part,  the  fol- 
lowing may  be  named  : 
"The  American  Agriculturist." 
"Hearth  and  Home." 

"Appleton's  Encyclopedia  "  (Botanical  Drawings). 
"Picturesque  America." 
"Success  with  Small  Fruits,"  E.  P.  Roe. 
"In  Berkshire  with  the  Wild  Flowers,"  Elaine 

and  Dora  Goodale. 
4<The   Heart  of  the  White  Mountains,"  S.   A. 

Drake. 
"  The  Master  of  the  Gunnery." 


Bibliograpy  275 

"Nature's  Serial  Story,"  E.  P.  Roe. 
" The  Pictorial  Longfellow." 
"  Sketches  in  the  South,"  Charles  Dudley  Warner 
and  Rebecca  Harding  Davis. 


Books  for  the  Country 


NATURE  STUDIES  IN  BERKSHIRE.  By  JOHN  COWJMAN  ADAMS. 
With  16  illustrations  in  photogravure  from  original  photographs 
by  ARTHUR  SCOTT.  8°,  gilt  top,  $4.50.  Popular  edition,  illus- 
trated, 8°,  $2.50. 

"  The  book  on  the  whole  is  a  sane  and  sympathetic  tribute  to  nature,  a  tribute 
that  is  much  enhanced  by  the  accompanying  beautiful  photographs."— Chicago 
Tribune. 

LANDSCAPE  GARDENING.  Notes  and  Suggestions  on  Lawns 
and  Lawn-Planting,  Laying  out  and  Arrangement  of  Country 
Places,  Large  and  Small  Parks,  etc.  By  SAMTJEI,  PARSONS,  Jr., 
Ex-Superintendent  of  Parks,  New  York  City.  With  nearly  200 
illustrations.  Large  8°,  $3.50. 
"  Mr.  Parsons  proves  himself  a  master  of  his  art  as  a  landscape  gardener,  and 

this  superb  book  should  be  studied  by  all  who  are  concerned  in  the  making  of 

parks  in  other  cities,"— Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

LAWNS  AND  GARDENS.  How  to  Beautify  the  Home  Lot,  the 
Pleasure  Ground,  and  Garden.  By  N.  JoNSSON-RoSE,  of  the 
Department  of  Public  Parks,  New  York  City.  With  172  plans 
and  illustrations.  Large  8°,  gilt  top,  $3.50. 

"Mr.  Jonsson-Rose  has  prepared  a  treatise  which  will  prove  of  genuine  value  to 
the  large  and  increasing  number  of  those  who  take  a  personal  interest  in  their 
home  grounds.  It  does  not  aim  above  the  intelligence  or  aesthetic  sense  of  the 
ordinary  American  citizen  who  has  never  given  any  thought  to  planting  and  to 
whom  some  of  the  profounder  principles  of  garden-art  make  no  convincing  ap- 
peal."— Garden  and  Forest. 

ORNAMENTAL  SHRUBS.  For  Garden,  Lawn,  and  Park  Planting. 
By  Lucius  D.  DAVIS.  With  over  100  illustrations.  8°,  $3.50. 

"  Mr.  Davis  writes  with  authority  upon  his  chosen  theme.  .  .  .  The  book  is 
full  of  information  upon  the  subject  of  which  it  treats,  and  contains  many  sugges- 
tions that  will  prove  helpful.  "-TV.  Y.  Times. 

THE  LEAF  COLLECTOR'S  HANDBOOK  AND  HERBARIUM. 

An  aid  in  the  preservation  and  in  the  classification  of  specimen 
leaves  of  the  trees  of  Northeastern  America.  By  CHARGES  S. 
NKWHAU,.  Illustrated.  8°,  $2.00. 

"  The  idea  of  the  book  is  so  good  and  so  simple  as  to  recommend  itself  at  a 
glance  to  everybody  who  cares  to  know  our  trees  or  to  make  for  any  purpose  a  col- 
lection of  their  leaves."—^.  Y.  Critic. 

THE  WONDERS  OF  PLANT  LIFE.  By  Mrs.  S.  B.  HERRICK. 
Fully  illustrated.  16°,  $1.50. 

"  A  dainty  volume  .  .  .  opens  up  a  whole  world  of  fascination  .  .  .  full 
of  information."—  Boston  Advertiser. 

THE  HOME  LIFE  OF  WILD  BIRDS.  A  new  method  of  the  study 
and  photography  of  birds.  By  FRANCIS  H.  HERRICK.  With  141 
illustrations  from  life.  4°,  net,  $2.50. 

Mr.  Herrick  has  perfected  an  invention  that  brings  the  birds  beneath  his  eye, 
and  beneath  the  eye  of  his  camera,  in  a  way  hitherto  unheard  of.  At  an  actual 
distance  of  about  2  feet  from  the  nest,  the  author  and  his  camera  stand.  From  that 
point  of  vantage  they  watch  and  record  every  movement  of  the  bird  family. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  27  &  29  West  23d  St.,  New  York 


Books  for  the  Country 


OUR  INSECT  FRIENDS  AND  FOES.  How  to  Collect,  Preserve 
and  Study  Them.  By  BEU,E  S.  CRAGIN.  With  over  250  illus- 
trations. 8°,  $i.75 

"Although  primarily  intended  for  boys  and  girls,  it  can  hardly  fail  to  enlist  the 
aid  of  the  older  members  of  the  family ;  and  for  the  amateur  collector  of  all  ages 
who  has  all  the  requisite  enthusiasm  but  lacks  a  practical  knowledge  of  the  art  of 
preserving  specimens,  it  should  receive  a  warm  welcome.' ' — Commercial  Advertiser. 

AMONG  THE  MOTHS  AND  BUTTERFLIES.  By  JUWA  P.  BAI^ 
I,ARD.  Illustrated.  8°,  $1.50. 

"The  book,  which  is  handsomely  illustrated,  is  designed  for  young  readers, 
relating  some  of  the  most  curious  facts  of  natural  history  in  a  singularly  pleas- 
ant ana  instructive  manner." — N.  Y.  Tribune 

BIRD  STUDIES.     An  account  of  the  Land  Birds  of  Eastern  North 

America.     By  WIGWAM  E.  D.  SCOTT.     With  166  illustrations 

from  original  photographs.     Quarto,  leather  back,  gilt  top,  in  a 

box,  net,  $5.00. 

"  A  book  of  first  class  importance.    .    .    .    Mr.  Scott  has  been  a  field  naturalist 

for  upwards  of  thirty  years,  and  few  persons  have  a  more  intimate  acquaintance 

than  he  with  bird  life.    His  work  will  take  high  rank  for  scientific  accuracy  and 

we  trust  it  may  prove  successful."— London  Speaker. 


WILD  FLOWERS  OF  THE  NORTHEASTERN  STATES.    Drawn 
and  carefully  described  from  life,  without  undue  use  of  scientific 
nomenclature,  by  EWvEN  MII,I^R  and  MARGARET  C.  WHITING. 
With  308  illustrations  the  size  of  life.     8°,  net,  $3.00. 
"  Anybody  who  can  read  English  can  use  the  work  and  make  his  identifica- 
tions, and,  in  the  case  of  some  of  the  flowers,  the  drawings  alone  furnish  all  that 
is  necessary.    .    .    .    The  descriptions  are  as  good  of  their  kind  as  the  drawings 
are  of  theirs.' WV.  Y.  Times. 


THE  SHRUBS  OF  NORTHEASTERN  AMERICA.     By  CHARGES 

S.  NEWHAU..     Fully  illustrated.    8°,  $1.75. 

"This  volume  is  beautifully  printed  on  beautiful  paper,  and  has  a  list  of  116 
illustrations  calculated  to  explain  the  text.  It  has  a  mine  of  precious  informa- 
tion, such  as  is  seldom  gathered  within  the  covers  of  such  a  volume."— Baltimore 
Farmer. 

THE  VINES  OF  NORTHEASTERN  AMERICA.     By  CHARGES  S. 

NSWHAU,.    Fully  illustrated.    8°,  $1.75. 

"The  work  is  that  of  the  true  scientist,  artistically  presented  in  a  popular 
form  to  an  appreciative  class  of  readers."—  The  Churchman. 

THE  TREES  OF  NORTHEASTERN  AMERICA.    By  CHARGES  S. 

NEWHAU,.     With  illustrations  made  from  tracings  of  the  leaves 

of  the  various  trees.    8°,  $1.75. 

"We  believe  this  is  the  most  complete  and  handsome  volume  of  its  kind,  and 
on  account  of  its  completeness  and  the  readiness  with  which  it  imparts  informa- 
tion that  everybody  needs  and  few  possess,  it  is  invaluable."— Binghamton  Repub- 
lican.   

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  27  &  29  West  23d  St.,  New  York 


14  DAY  USE 

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